There's Blood in the Water- 126th games
by itsjustanotherwriter02
Summary: who will be reaped? who will volunteer? who will find themselves in an arena fighting for their lives- SYOT CLOSED- NOT ACCEPTING TRIBUTES but readers welcome- 1/24 alive- WE HAVE OUR VICTOR, FOLKS! TBITW IS COMPLETE! WE’RE DONE!
1. Chapter 1 (D3)

**I decided I might as well try an Syot. Info at the bottom. **

**Chapter 1**

**Athena Lightes:**

You would think a day before the reaping there would be some bit of somberness was to be found in a place where everyone was eligible for it. Well, you would think wrong. If anything, the stupid boys were more lively, the most lively as ever. Which was a very bad thing for me.

"Hey Mute." As soon as the final class was dismissed I had made my attempt to flee the school building quickly as possible. But I wasn't fast enough. Never fast enough.

"Hey." Hands grappled at my shoulders, throwing me to the side. Why did they find it so amusing to pick on me? Because I was the easy target. _Mute. _It's a joke. I'm a joke to them.

That _Them_, being the boys in our district, the ones around my age. They found it so amusing to poke fun at me. _Make fun of the mute kid, sounds good_. A single boy in particular. Every single for year. I was turned around, my back being slammed into the wall. For a brief second I felt sorry for the wall. By the time whoever it was was done with me, either the wall or me will leave some sort of imprint on the other. Or maybe both. My tormentor was the usual one. I recognize the leering grin, the cold grey eyes and thin scar running up the boys right cheek. Acer Chriss. Crap.

"Where do you think you're going Mute?" He was one of the few that had a reason to hate me. He got that scar from me after all.

He waited tauntingly for a response. Laughing maniacally when he seemingly remembered that I physically couldn't. Respond that was, or do anything else for that matter.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" I hate him with the same passion he has for me. I just relieved my anger in different ways than him. My knee came up and swung out to the side, finding contact with his ribs. He cursed, violently, but that didn't stop him from releasing me for just a moment. No one else was in the area, I always fled in a different directions than the throng of kids. Which might also be a bad thing. Because I could hear his footsteps behind me, and I knew that he was fast. He knew he was fast. But he also knew I was faster.

I tear out of the school building, not getting the chance to do anything but look at my feet on the ground. Not the worn street, and definitely not the workeders I knew would be out in the streets by now. Pounding, pounding. Pounding. I just need to keep running. I hear the door open behind me, and I turn to see the boy falling behind. Time to speed up. If it was possible I did. I turned the corner into the mechanics section. I kept going, seeing a small opening between two buildings I darted in only to stop dead in my tracks. Because at the end of the alley was nothing more than the back of another building. Crap.

His footsteps rounded the last corner, one more and he'd see this place, it was the only I spot I could have went- why hadn't I just kept running? I could have made it home and he couldn't touch me there, but I'm an idiot and I chose to some here. I waited for him to show up, to throw another knee into his side or maybe an elbow of fist. Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting is the thing that kills you, kills me. My life is nothing more than waiting.

I kept waiting until I saw the shadow pass right through the opening.

Correction to a previous statement: He's the idiot, not me. Okay, maybe both of us are idiots.

I waited a moment, more waiting, waited until I couldn't anymore. I stepped out just in time to see his leather jacket and short hair disappear around the corner. The next corner of the next building. If I could, I would be laughing hysterically right now. I mouth the words that I want to scream at his back:

_It's Athena. _

I turn away from where my adversary had disappeared, starting a slower run the other direction. I hated the smell of metal around me, reminds me too much of blood. I know that scent well. I slow down just enough to find myself in a light jog, nothing compared to the all out sprint I had to get here. I kept that jog all the way home.

Home wasn't the proper term; house. I live in a house with the man who was biologically my father, but was really nothing more than a figure that would come out every few days. A man who hated me with even more passion than Acer. After inspecting the place, I found that he was out. Thank the heavens. I didn't want him around for what I needed to do next.

The sky was wavering somewhere between darkness and light, and the hazy purples and pinks almost made me smile, but I don't do that. Not anymore, not ever. Instead, I turned away from the bits of sky seen in the window panels, and find the small trunk I had hid under my small bed ages ago. Almost everything that had belonged to my mother had been sold ages ago, right after I was born, but he had a missed a few things, or maybe left them. Left them for a much younger Athena to find them.

It was beautiful, a carved wooden box. With a wide inside. When I had found it years ago, it had had a large lock keeping it shut. Now it didn't, so I reached under the cot, felt it's surface under my palm. I slid it out, ready to see the dark ebony wood carved with dancing wires and ripples. We are in 3 after all. The beauty of technology, found in something that belonged in 7.

How had this trunk even gotten here? I had never asked, too afraid he might take it away, or break down or I don't know what. Whenever I spoke about mom was when he got his mot emotional. Sometimes anger, sometimes sadness, sometimes it's nothing more than a depressed look of a man who lost his lover. Never anything more. Never anything less.

The contents warm my heart. The few dresses my mother owned, a photo of her and my father hidden behind a cracked glass cover. My eyes pass over the picture. A smiling man with a full head of black hair, the wide smile reaching all the way up to the brown eyes. He looked nothing like the man with greying hair and never smiled that I knew today. Then the women. I had studied her over and over again. I remember seeing it as a little girl, trying to picture what I would look like when I aged, if I would look like her. I don't. The only thing the two of us shared was the hairstyle, two braids leading into a tail at the nape of her neck, if not the colouring, black hair to her red. Everything else about the woman, the small nose, green eyes and pale skin were nowhere to be found on my face. I put it aside, picking up an even smaller box underneath it all. It held each of their wedding bands.

I found the dress I wore every reaping day, a simple faded purple shift, and at it aside for tomorrow. It's sick how they make us dress up for our own demise. It found a place beside me, and I picked up the ring holder. It was the only that had ever made me smile. My mothers ring was too small for me, I had been able to wear it in my younger years, but not now. My fathers was too big, even for my thumb, I would need to find some sort of chain to hang it on. I held each in my hands, pulling them close to my chest. They were simple, nothing more than cheap metal, but they were beautiful. I looked out the window to find that the sky was now almost entirely dark, it had been a miracle I had been able to see anything. Like I hadn't been able to see my father for example.

Where was he? Not that I wanted him around, but still. Off somewhere doing God knows what. I shook the entire thing off, throwing the dress onto one of the two chairs in the room, sliding the ring box back into the larger box. Kicking it back under the cot, the final bits of light left the room. Darkness is the only thing I can trust.

**Acer Chriss**

I was going to kill her. Stupid Mute. I had completely lost her before light fell, and I had no idea where she might have gone, and there was no way I was looking for her after dark. That's fine, I would find her tomorrow. She wasn't done paying for what she did to me- and I mean about more than my scar.

The wound doesn't really hurt all that much anymore. I've had it for a while now, just under two years. It had healed surprisingly well, only a thin puckered line of white on my face. Sure, she would say it was my fault, well she wouldn't say anything but… but it was her fault. Everything was her fault. I hope she'll be reaped tomorrow. I'm ready to what her die. I hope it's painful. The thoughts of her demise, and images of her blood spilled made me smile.

"Hey," my smile softened as I turned around and saw Magik, "what are you doing out so late?" _looking for a monster. _But I only smiled at her, she didn't think that the Mute had done anything wrong, but she's wrong. She is so wrong. All of them are wrong about her.

"Nothing, was just at Zephyr's. Lost track of time." I lied, looking around the room, not seeing or smelling any hints of food. She seemed to notice,

"Yeah. You missed dinner. Sorry." she didn't sound too sorry, and she didn't save anything either.

I smiled at her, not showing any of the disappointment I feel. I was going to kill that Mute someday, maybe not today, but some day in the near future.

"That's fine. Not very hungry anyways," I hoped she didn't notice that I saw lying for a second time. Mag just turned around, threading her way back to the divided back of the room. There were no walls, only cheap drapes that you could push back if you wanted. Surely the our parents were behind one of them. They had no idea what Mute had done either. No one did. Except me and… well the other persons dead now isn't she? And it's all her fault. Every bit of it.

None of what I felt showed in my face, that was until I turned away, went to my corner, being quieter than we had been before. Tomorrow seemed like a good day. I would be waiting for it. Even if there was some slim chance of a slip being drawn with my name written on it.

"Goodnight, Mag." her voice came back to me, just before the final bits of natural light faded. her response came back to me,"Goodnight. See you in the morning."

* * *

**SYOT submission form. I'll accept PMs, nothing in the review. Then all the usual stuff, everyone knows the drill I guess. I'll let people submit up to 5 tributes So here's the form, but you can also find it on my profile:**

**For any of these put as much detail as you'd like. I know writing submissions are hard, but please, just the more I know about the characters the better:**

Name:

Age:

Gender:

District

Appearance: detailed please. Like: Hair colour and what style, colouring, eyes, and important features, height, etc.

Personality: detailed

Friends:

Family:

Backstory:

Strengths: (max. 5)

Weaknesses (at least 3)

reaped/volunteered: if they are from an outer district, make sure the reasons for volunteering are good

reason/reaction:

Training: what will they spend the most time on?

Weapon of choice: it's fine if they don't have one

Interview angle:

Game plans: anywhere from getting on the train to being in the arena

Bloodbath tactics: do they want to be in it at all?

Likeliness of dying in bloodbath: because there's got to be a few

Alliances?:

Predicted placement:

Preferred placement:

Reason to win: if you put 1rst for either of them

Important scene's to add: can't promise I'll be able to write it in, but I'll try my best

Preferred death:

Reaping outfit:

Chariot outfit:

Interview outfit:

Mentor: everything you can put about them (I'll choose one from each district)

**then the not necessarily necessary stuff, but I would appreciate them being filled in:**

What would you like to see in the arena: anything. I can't take everything but I'll try

Feelings about district partner:

Backup district:

Romance?:

An opening scene: how I plan to write it is starting with the reaping from different districts, then moving onto the trains with different characters and so on. So put something here if you want, or don't

Important scene to add in: can't promise I'll be able to write it in, but I'll try

Anything else important: things about the character that don't fit in anywhere else

**I've kept district 3 for myself and my created character, but every other character is up for grabs. **


	2. Chapter 2 (D3)

**A/n: I am so excited. _Annabeth Pie_ and _Professor R.J Lupin1 _have already submitted a couple of different characters, so I'd like to thank both of them. Those chapters will be coming out soon as I have my friend beta read them (and I finish them). there are now 7/24 spots filled (3 more coming soon). I had already started writing this chapter, so I'm going to post this, then you'll get to read about district 7 _(Professor R.J Lupin1, thank you so much for those characters),_ then hopefully one from District 4 (one from each of them, ). So, enjoy Ch. 2.**

**Chapter 2- That fateful day**

_The reaping and the goodbyes (District 3)_

Athena Lightes:

I woke up the next morning to the door swinging open. It banged against the wall, and I was surprised it didn't go clean through. Guess father's back. Just in time for the light of day. He left the door swinging, and I was surprised it didn't go clean through the wall. I looked up just time to see his solid shape collapsing onto his cot in the other corner. Turning back to the door, I groaned internally, wanting to stay in bed, not wanting to get up and face the day. Reaping day. Is it so bad to not want to stand in the herded row of 15 year old girls (I might be almost 16, but still), surrounded by all the people who don't know me. Don't know anything about me other than _that girl's mute_. At least I would be far away from Acer.

Speaking -well not really- of which, I should probably stay here until the reaping. It's only an hour or two. So after I pulled the door shut, at which point I could already hear the loud snores from across the room. If I wasn't awake already, I would be now. Great. Just great.

_Shut up, won't you?_

That's the bad part about my _muteness_, I could never say anything. Which is really nothing more than stating the obvious. But it's more than that. It's the thing that sets me apart from everyone else. And I'm belittle for it. But I would change it, even if I could. I like being the one that can disappear into the corner, listen without being seen. Without being heard. It's not a physical thing, my disability. It's a mental block in my brain, not letting me speak because of some great ordeal of god knows what, that I was surely too young to properly remember.

After some inspection, my stomach growling as I did it, I found the kitchen bare of anything resembling food. I didn't have a chance to eat last night, and I guess I wouldn't have a chance this morning.

_What if I was reaped? What if I volunteered?_

No. that's stupid. I don't want to go into the games, I don't want to die. I'm not reckless.

_But if I was reaped…_

I couldn't do anything about that, could I?

…

It seemed that every kid in the district walked out of their houses at the same time. They all seemed to fall into uniform lines. It's sad, just how much these kids know the way of the reaping. But so do I. We fall into our rows. And before I know it were in the square. It's the only pretty part of 3. So why do they ruin it with death?

By the time I arrived, the square was already crowded. The children with their names in the lot standing on the front, the women and women too old or children too young standing at the back. The later one would have to watch from the imported screens. The Capitolite escort, Hera Omina, had a sour look on that ridiculous face of hers. Underneath the powder white wig, dyed pink skin and the modified eyes with an uncanny resemblance to cat eyes, she wore her red painted lips in a pout. She must smell the distinct aroma of the tech. Metal. The circuits of electricity running our district. You would think that electricity is the sort of thing without a smell, but you'd be wrong. It's not really a smell, I guess. More of a feeling, some sort of being pressing down on the entire district. It was clear even Omina felt it.

She cleared her throat into the microphone, and it reverberated around the square. Even the people who were far in the back could hear it clear as sky. The sky might not be exactly clear today, but still. In fact, the sky seemed to reflect the mood of the district quite well. Grey. Bleak. It was truly sad.

A proper reflection

For everyone except Omina. She pulled her point up into a smile. The fake type that you could clearly see crumbling into the frown it wanted to be. But she did her best not to show it as she welcomed us graciously into our own village square.

"Welcome, welcome." Her tone was agonizing. It was as though she was trying to be nice but failing miserably.

_"My name's Hera Omina, and I'm about to take two of your districts children to fight and die for my personal entertainment."_ Okay, so she might not have really said that, but I could read between the lines.

"My name is Hera Omina, your district escort," okay, so I might have been stretching it a little bit, but it was exactly what she meant.

She droned through the normal speech. One young man and women… blah, blah, blah… a competition of a lifetime… blah, blah, blah… but then she started in on last years games, the 5th quarter quell. This was something different. But it was so much worse.

"In the first quarter quell, the districts…" and she began to list off the different quells and years...

The _25th_ was the year when they voted in the different tributes. How the people would feel about that. Knowing sending in chosen children to die.

The_ 50th_ was when they doubled the amount of people in the games, two young men and women sent in from each district. It seemed even worse. 47 dead kids that year.

The _75th,_ the repenting avox's found from the outer districts. The people who were brave even to go against the Capitol. Got their tongues cut out in penance and punishment. Too bad I might as well be one, and I haven't even done anything… yet.

The _100th_ games, were a special event as far as the capitol was concerned. They had used the same arena, same weapons, same everything as the original, the first hunger games. It was painful to watch in the reruns.

Then last year. _125th_ games. The year that Simone Vallzes and Aston Vallzes. Only siblings went in. Only a single boy came out, an 18 year old from 4,

"In remembrance of the brothers and sisters slain in the uprising." the people who took charge of their fight, 126 years ago. It hurt my soul, to the point I was glad that I was an only child. But if I was…

That wouldn't be possible, not in this universe. Not in any.

My heart shattered in my chest, just as she walked towards the girls bowl. The few with with the slips of paper with _Athena Lightes_ written neatly in the center of each page.

"Ladies first." my head was pounding as I watched her lacy gloved fingers sink deep into the slips of paper. The seconds seem to drag as I realized I couldn't breath. She flattened the slip in her hand, looking down at the name there.

"Athena Lightes." she clapped her hands together, and suddenly the entire district seemed to fall silent. I had been hearing things. Surely I had been hearing things. But I felt the eyes on me, the gazes slowly turning heavier and heavier. Then the escort noticed me and gestured to me, and as I started to walk she coaxed me up,

"Come on dear. Up, up, up you go. There you go." she did her little cough into the microphone again, but now I'm on the stage, and I can feel the looks as well as see them. Each one face is one of detachment. Not a single look was one of pity or sadness.

"Now, don't you feel lucky? Representing your district in this Years annual hunger games?" she waited for a response, but I couldn't give one,

"Miss Lightes… could you answer the question, please." I shook my head, and as she waited for another response, a voice called out from the crowd,

"That girl's mute!" I didn't see who yelled it out, but I did feel the small bits of relief, I didn't have to try to explain anything with no words. It's quite a difficult feat, I knew it from experience.

The woman looked uncomfortable with the realization.

"Oh…" it was clear she was very uncomfortable with the idea. She had a disabled kid on her hands, "then let's just get on with it, find your partner?" I nodded, looking away from the crowd. But the relief was still there. That's odd. Was I... Happy about this?

She pulled out the next card, and as she read the name, I was sure I had just burst into flames. No not...

Acer Chriss:

"And the male tribute from district 3 for the 126th hunger games is… Acer Chriss."

No. surely I had heard wrong. Surely I hadn't been given such a large gift? I would get my chance now. The mute stared at me, horror plain on her face as I took the steps, ending up beside her.

"District 3, I give you the tributes of the 126th Hunger games. Now, now, shake hands." the smile on my face was the same as the one I had worn with Mag last night. Her hand was cold in mine, tense. My nails dug into her wrist, to the point that she tried to pull away, and she probably would have screamed. Barely moving my lips, I whispered what I felt at the bottom of my heart, the only possible reason I could be smiling at the moment,

"I'm going to kill you, Mute," the horror on her face was replaced with… anger? Yes, the way she gritted her teeth, and the small tears that were coming to her eyes and the redness in her face.

"Hear me? You'll be dead. Finally, you can make up for everything you've done to me. to her." her eyes widen, the tears welling up disappeared. She knew who I saw talking about. Both of us did. She yanked her hand away from me, just as the ditsy escort danced us away, into the building. When I looked down at my hands, I saw that small red stains under my fingernails. I hadn't even noticed. A small penance for everything she's done.

...

Mag ran in first, throwing her arms around my neck, she was sobbing. It wasn't a nice quite cry, soft tiny tears like the ones I could see my mother shed, but huge gasping screams, mouth wide open, eyes wide and tears dripping down her face, I held her tightly,

"why! Why did it have to be you?" I saw my parents step into the room behind her, each of them with somber looks marring their faces,

"There's also that Mute," I reminded her, gently, but that didn't seem to help much. I tried to keep the smug smile off my face, hiding my bloodied nails from my parents. Magik released me, and my mother was next. I found that I was taller than both of them, when had that happened?

"I'm sorry sweetie, there's nothing we could have done," My mother and her sickly sweet nicknames. she pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes,

"It's not your fault," I tell her, then flick my gaze to my father and back to Mag, who has tears running freely over her face and dripping slowly onto her dress, "It's not any of our faults. I'll miss you. But I promise you -_all of you- _I'll get home." none of them seem to take me seriously. To be honest, neither did I, but they didn't need to know that. I only need to do is kill her. It would be the least I could do for Jo

"We know. It's just so hard to let you go. I just want you to come home." that was my father, and it was now his turn to pull my into a tight embrace. I leaned into his hard form, whispering into his ear.

"I'll get home. I promise,"

"I know you will."

they didn't leave until they were practically thrown out. I'd miss them.

Next came Zephyr, another one of the few I'd miss. She said the same things, had the same tears in her eyes as Magik (though hers hadn't spilled over onto her dress yet). It was clear how much it broke her heart to see me go. but she did.

Now it was time for planning.

Athena Lightes:

I was led to a room to wait, wait for who I don't know, but it was customary to send the tributes off with a goodbye from their friends and loves ones. I just clutched at the half moon's carved into the skin on the inside of my wrist. Honestly, he was psychotic, wasn't he?

_Everything I've done to him?_

I've done nothing but give him that fancy scar, and it wasn't really my fault, I mean he attacked me. And her? He couldn't have been talking about…

The door slammed open, a stark reminder of my arousal this very morning. And it was the same face at the door. He seemed off, eyes glazed over and hair a mess, he might be wearing the only dress clothes he owns, but he still looks terrible. It takes more than a button up to fix someone like him. He fell onto the couch, surely it was more comfortable than anything he had back at the house. The one I'd never see again. It still didn't make sense. I couldn't comprehend it. I was in the Hunger games. I'm gonna die. Why had I felt so much relief as I walked up those stairs?

Because anywhere was better than with him.

He was silent for a moment, a long moment, and I guess I was too but that wasn't unusual.

"So," he slurred, he didn't sound right either, "You're going in the games." even in his state, I could hear how much enjoyment that thought brought him. He looked up to me, where I had hidden in the corner. I nodded, slowly, and he laughed but it was a sick laugh. One entirely lacking in mirth. It sent a wave of chills up my spine, and I was surprised my mothers dress didn't shift with it. He seemed to read my mind,

"You know, your mother never shut up. Maybe she should have been more like you." I jumped away from the wall, anger flowing into me to replace the chilled feeling in the air. I might not have known her, but he had no right to taint my thoughts of her in anyway. He stood too, staggering his way towards me, a finger coming up to point at me, only for me to back away without realizing it.

"Actually. I take that back. You should be more like her. But then again, you were the one that killed her, so I shouldn't be surprised that you're nothing like her. Of course I wouldn't be _that_ lucky." the anger in his eyes was something seen before, it went beyond the normal outburst about my mother, it was anger directed at me. Since I couldn't defend myself, he demanded more and more attention from me,

"We would have been happy. Happy together. If it weren't for you."

_It's not my fault_, I need to talk, to say something, anything I to defend myself. But I can't, can't open my mouth, can't scream at him tell him t shut up, to leave me alone,

"And you know, I was so happy to find out that I was going to be a father. I would get a to raise a child with the woman I loved. Loved. You took that away from me. I might have been able to deal with you if she had been with us. But she died. She died and left me with you. An avox, a little Mute. should have cut your tongue ages ago, would've given you an excuse to keep that mouth shut permanently." he was now right in my face, his finger jabbing into my collarbone, it hurt almost as much as the four bloodied marks on my wrist.

Before I could stop myself, I was crying, again. I don't cry, I've never cried. But why now… because death row made me emotional. He saw the tears in my eyes, and I could see, even in his glazed over expression, that he was going in for the kill.

"I'll be glad when you dead." just like that he turned his back, walking out the same door. He was no father to me. I broke down in the emptiness. I was going to die and no one would miss me. No one. Even my father hates me.

At least wherever I was going it was far away from here. With Acer...

And just like that I knew how I was going to die.

He was really going to kill me. It has been threatened plenty of times, but now he had the right to it. People would send him gifts for making it extra bloody.

So that's how I die... I found it surprising that that thought didn't make me erupt into more tears. It gave me some sort of closure. Except I'd never let that happen. not ever. I won't give either of them, the two men I hate most, get the pleasure of seeing my blood spilled.

Of all things, I found myself smiling. At least my father had done something for me: He had given me a motive.

Guess both of them were good for something.


	3. Chapter 3 (D7)

**since I posted the last chapter, I've already got some reservations, and a few more tributes! But the time your reading this it might go up, but there are currently 13 tributes in the 126th hunger games. **

**Still available: 6M, 8M, 9M, 9F, 10M, 10F, 12M (all the others are reserved or taken)**

**look at my profile to see the full list. **

**Chapter 3**

_Goodbyes and the beginning of the train rides _

Sequoia Carsyn:

The door was locked behind me, and no matter how hard I pounded at the door it didn't open. Sure, I could have picked the lock, but what's the point? I would just be thrown back in here, or worse, right on that train without the chance to say goodbye. As I turned around I felt the scar tissue over my back ripple. The whippings that I'd never be able to wipe off my skin. I had only stolen a few times, few times they'd caught me anyways, but that was enough to build up enough of those pretty scars on my back, and the one lining my face, splitting my eyebrow cleanly in half and tuning down to reach the corner of my mouth, but who really cared. Certainly not my parents, though they got their karma in the end.

I found myself walking to the window, see the dispersal of people in the town square. Each one happy because it wasn't their kid going in. and why did my name have to drawn?

Just as I turned back to the door it burst open, admitting Cypress then slamming close again. Guess I can't be trusted, they're right but still. Cypress walked her long strides up to my side.

"So," she her snide grin was wide and plastered on her face, "Someone got reaped." I took a step back, starting to pace the long room- it was a nice room, if there was anything to lift… I won't need to do that anymore. I stilled my hands, knowing that my fingers would find themselves taking anything..

"Yeah, too bad it wasn't you. I'm sure you would've done great. Maybe you'd even make it back home." she could hear the smallest hint of sarcasm in my voice, it was something only the two of us could understand about each other. Call it the basis of our friendship or whatever, but that is where our similarities begin and end.

"Funny," she sounded bitter, but then again that was her usual, "So, do you think you're going to come home?"

"Yes." I said without even thinking it, but as soon as I did I knew it was true.

"Huh. You sound pretty sure of yourself. What about the other kid? Jaeger Primrose?" both of us started laughing at the same time. Both stopped at the same time.

"Sure. he's real tough competition. An overweight 14 year old kid with anger issues. I can feel myself quaking."

"I hope you come home." she sounded almost… sad? This was nothing like Cypress. Cypress with the emotional span of bitterness to snark. Nothing else, ever.

"What's going on with you, Cy? You sound almost… sad." when in doubt, sarcasm is the way to go. She scoffed, finally stopping my pacing with a raised finger,

"I'm serious." I shrugged,

"So am I!" her explosion after words wasn't expected, by either of us it seemed,

"No you're not! You never are!"

"Well neither are you. I-" I stopped myself short. We don't argue. We never argue. Never had anything to argue about.

"I'm sorry," the words sound forced to the both of us, but at least I was using them.

"Don't be," she got up, and repeated her first statement.

"I really do hope you come home." and then she hugged me, pulling me close. The second miracle in a day of tragedy.

"I'll try my best."

We both heard the lock click open, and she pulled away, pointing to my only visible scar,

"Use that." but she didn't elaborate as she turned away. But she did say one last word, before the door closed behind her.

"Goodbye."

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting, no visitors at all maybe, but not that. All I knew after was that no one else was going to come in here. Not even my father. That's fine, not like I care about him after he threw me out when I was only 11, but I manage up until this point.

Then there was the reaping. The anger that I felt as I walked up to Daffodil Flick, our escort, on that raised platform. But maybe I could win. Alone, of course. No alliance with the scrawny golden boy that I have the misfortune of being partnered with, and certainly not anyone else.

My previous thought was correct. No one visited me after Cypress. Fine by me.

Jaeger Primrose:

My family had been the only people to see me off. I was quite honestly fine with that.

"You just seemed angry on the walk up to the stage," I could hear mothers reprimanding voice.

"That's because I was." My voice this time. But now I was far away from that scene. Or getting far away from it at least. The train was pulling away quickly, gathering even more speed as it went. Pretty soon I would be far away from District 7. All the better, because I had more and more time to plan.

I figured it out in seconds. Then the plan was decided, and I knew what to do. It's the Hunger Games, there really is nothing else to do. Just kill. Seems simple enough. Kill everyone.

The odd thing was that the 17 year old girl, Sequoia Carsyn, was smaller than I was. Skinnier at least. Taller maybe, but I was still growing, I'm only fourteen after all. That scar of hers was also interesting, too bad it wasn't really anything that would help her. Or me. I wondered if she had any more… then I remembered. She was the kid who lived on the streets, the one who I had seen being punished for thievery at least three separate times. I wanted to say something, but just then, Carsyn walked off to the back of the train, maybe to her room, maybe somewhere else. I couldn't know, I'm not the best at sneaking around, not like Sequoia. I've seen her hiding up in trees fell tile to time. But what's really scary is when you don't see her. Because the first time I didn't see her it was because she was behind me. I wouldn't have even noticed what she had took if not for my father. That was the first time I had seen her in the town square but not the last.

The last bits of District 7 I saw were the vast forests. I would see it all again, no question about it. Which was why I didn't feel any pang of sadness of homesickness as I turned away from the window. When this is over I'll be back, without even breaking a sweat.

My room was large, nothing I wasn't used to, but the contents were so much different. So much better. Lush furnishing and a wide bed, a small window with little to nothing outside it. Sure it was nice, but it was also quite boring.

After I win, I'll have an entire house exactly like this.

The room seemed to disappear behind me as I left out the same door. To do what, I wasn't sure, but it was a big train, I could easily find that room again. But now? Now was time to explore. But I was having a hard time of it. Each door I came to was locked or I was simply unable to open them. Finally, at the end of the seemingly endless corridor, I came to a glass door that seemed to be frosted over, so I couldn't see what was on the other side. If this is locked, I'll go to the dining room and wait for dinner. But fortunately, it swung wide open. The view was breathtaking. You could see it through the back, made entirely of plated glass, but the view of the nearest train tracks behind us was blocked by a curved sofa. Sitting on that couch was Sequoia Carsyn. She looked at me for a moment, tucking curly hair that hadn't moved behind her ear. She turned back to the window.

It was an odd thing to that this girl, that almost everyone I'd interact with for the next few days would he dead. Not that I'd kill her, no one back in 7 would forgive me even if she was a nobody street kid. But soon enough I'd enjoy the sight of that face in the sky. For hers and 22 others.

"So…" it didn't seem right to not say anything, and she wasn't making any suggestions.

"... did your parents come to see you off?" I knew right away that it was the wrong thing to say.

"No," she snapped, "but I'm sure yours did. Must have been a very heartfelt farewell. A couple of well meaning district citizens say their goodbye to their youngest child." Or took s moment to take

Up the sarcasm in that statement, to the point where I almost didn't notice what she had said before. How she never seemed to be at home, away from the square at least, so I thought I might as well ask,

"Why didn't your parents say goodbye?" Not that I really wanted to know, or even that I wanted this girls trust (because I knew I wasn't going to get it), I just felt like it was easier to get closure when you knew the full story. If she was going to die at least someone should know about her,

"Don't you know?" The question was a cruel sneer. So that was an apparent weak spot.

"No I don't." Her response was a shutting door, I hadn't even noticed her walking towards the door. Exactly what I meant about discreet.

"Guess we aren't forming any alliances on this train," not that I'd want to. But now it was just me and the beautiful view. The sky might have been grey, but it was a decidedly beautiful sort of darkness. A combination of dark and light that formed the sky when the sun behind all that grey, the sky would be painted in all different spectrum of color. It would paint the sky red.

"Red's a much better color."

...

An hour later and we were all welcomed back to the dining car. The buffet laid out there made my mouth water. It's not like I'd had never eaten well, but nothing could compare to Capitol food. After piling my plate with an alarmingly high stack of spiced potatoes, chicken, rolls, a variety of small vegetables and countless other foods I made my way to one of the open chairs. Beside Sequoia. Which was when I noticed her own marvel of a food pile. She should have gotten a second plate for the amount she had managed to pile on. She dug right in, without the assorted utensils I noticed. I was tempted to tell her that at the rate that food was going in it would be coming right back out soon enough, but the scowl on her face stopped me. That, and the thought that maybe she would manage to give herself an epileptic attack. Take my 1/24 odds to 1/23 before the plates even raised. Well, one could dream I guess.

"What?" She has noticed I had been staring at her for too long, and she held out the single cooked carrot she held in her hand,

"Want it?" I shook my head, trying to disengage,

"No, seriously. Your a growing kid right? You're -what?- 12?"

"Try 14." She laughed, like it was the same thing. Then silence fell.

The silence around us was full, even the energetic escort (What was her name again?) was completely silent. Other Than the muttering under her breath,

"Oh, where is he?" She took small bites of her food,

"Where's who?" I had wanted to ask, but the words weren't mine. Seemed Carsyn was willing to let Escort exist in her own little universe now. Escort smiled, her lips painted blue giving off an almost eerie impression.

"Oh, no one. Just your mentor, Dears. Circe Dare." The name sent a chill running through the room. I recognized the name. He was one of the 6 living victors of 7. After this it would be 7 from 7. I'd hardly break a sweat. The thought made me laugh. In my head at least.

"What's so funny dear?" I hadn't realized my chuckles had been a real one. Dear. It reminded me of my mothers goodbye,

_"I love you dear. I'll miss you."_ But the words had a seemingly different effect in both situations. I gave the woman my best smile, looking over her powder white skin and hair so dark blue it matched her eyes and her lips,

"Nothing. Just thought of something."

She looked away, tittering at something seemingly in her own head.

"Well," She busied herself with taking small bites from her own plate, "I'll just send someone to fetch Him." And She did just that. The woman she had asked left the room. The only sound in the roll was Sequoia Carsyn walking down her meal.

Sequoia Carsyn:

I realized the clatter I made as I ate the truly incredible food was the only thing to be heard seemingly on the entire train. I looked up to see the healthy fourteen year old kid looking at me funny. Looking down at the slight bulging of his stomach and concluding that life wasn't fair. He had had plenty to eat all his life. I had to steal if I wanted half as much as he got served on a silver platter. He lived in a comfy home with a cozy family, and I had been kicked out of mine ages ago. Life wasn't fair, especially to me it seemed.

"What?" I snapped, really not wanting to deal with this high quantity of privilege in front of me.

"Nothing." And he went back to his food.

After surveying him a little more, I decided that this kid wasn't going to last long. He hardly looked like he could run, let alone run for his life. And it was people like him who didn't know how to be hungry. In the hunger games, that was a big disadvantage. Probably die of starvation or dehydration. That face of his -watery blue eyes, fair unblemished skin, and a smile too dark for a face so young- would end up in the sky on the first night. No contest. As long as my own didn't follow I'd be fine.

Just when I had decided that statement was true, a young man came spinning into the room. Circe Dare. I forgot how young he was.

"So, you two are the next round of martyrs. It's not so nice to meet you."

Circe Dare was clearly insane. His hair was wild, a tangled mess hanging to just past his ears. It was longer than my hair. Mike might as well be a men's haircut. When I remembered what he did, I knew he actually was.

The massacre of the 121st games. 5 years ago, a thing still fresh in everyone's memories. He had killed almost everyone in his arena.

Then there was his age. He had been 15. A 15 year old kid had killed anyone and everyone, with any means necessary. Remembering how he snapped his own district partners neck, another boy struck dead with a blunt arrow used as a knife. A battle axe. He had won his games in 4 days. 96 hours in and out with 23 people slain to prove it.

He only looked a few years older, maybe 20. 21? Great.

This was going to be an interesting year.


	4. Chapter 4 (D4)

**Well here's the actual Chapter 4. I've been enjoying writing this, and hope you've enjoyed reading it. Just hope that **

**Chapter 4- the art of staying alive (D4)**

_Reapings and goodbyes_

Chrysanthe Wolfe:

"Evanna Creeks."

"I volunteer!" Those are the two simple words that have been swimming around my head for the past few days. That fact that they would belong to my lips hadn't seemed real until now. My legs did the work, carrying me up to the stage. I faced my peers in the corded off rows, me mentors in the back, my family. Friends. Everyone. Then my eyes travel to my partner. Ethan Spring. Sure, he wasn't much to look at but he was strong. But he didn't look it right now, the colour slowly draining out of his face. He hadn't looked this nervous yesterday, when we had started planning out the games.

"What's your name?" Ever Sonders gave me a perfect smile, and I returned it,

"Chrysanthe Wolfe." She looked like she wanted to say something about my scar, maybe that it look ls like I've been mauled by an actual wolf, but she doesn't. Just continues to make tittering comments. It was no wolf that did this to me, only a sword and a cruel person wielding it. The odd thing was it wasn't blinding. Instead, looking straight ahead into the sea of bodies, the Capitol women was still clear as day. It had somehow increased my peripheral vision. Some odds did appear to be in my favor, at least.

Sonders did her best to rope me into some small talk, but I wasn't exactly in the mood. I just wanted to get this over with, for Ethan to walk up onto the stage, say goodbye to my family and to Sea, then get on that train and begin the actual Hunger games. It was a simple list, One I was ready to jump right into. So I waited for the second name to be called, for the kid to then be asked to leave the stage for the two volunteers. So when she called out,

"Mars Marker," I didn't blink, and neither did Mars. I recognized him, but it's not like we had been friends. Or enemies, or anything at all. I just knew he existed and vice versa. He was something to gawk at, fortunately. When he made it up to the stage, it was all I could do to see the bulging muscles in his arms, the solid rock type abs showing through his button up. He had a warm smile, and of course he wasn't nervous, he wasn't going in. each of our gazes fell on Ethan, who was now completely white. Slowly, so slowly it was like he wasn't moving at all, and shook his head. Then nothing happened. Ethan Spring had chickened out. Well, crap. We had already had a plan. We knew what we were going to do. But not with this guy. Mars Marker? I knew nothing about the kid, other than the fact that he was one of the kids who grew up by the ocean. The sort of charisma you would expect from a victor, but none of the other attributes. This wasn't going to be good.

"District 4, I give you your tributes from the 126th Hunger Games," It was all I could do to stare at my district partner,

"And May the odds be ever in your favour."

After shaking his calloused hand, we were each led to different rooms for our farewells. My family came first. Daniel and Saturn running to me and holding me tight between them.

"I'm so proud of you," Daniel held me just a little tighter than my other brother, though it took me a moment to tell the two apart. Honestly, Saturn might only be a year younger, but he had always been a little smaller. But now, after that spurt a few years ago, he had nearly surpassed Danny.

"Geez, don't squeeze me to death." _there's going to be plenty of that in a few days. _He just pulled my tighter, and it was nice to feel like the smaller sibling. In now ways were I short, but considering my brothers and father both towered over me by a good few inches, it was nice to feel small. The two slabs of pure muscle at each side finally released me, letting me walk over to my parents. My mother took my hand, her kind eyes looking up into mine.

"You'll do great, Chrys." it was the only way she ever referred to me now, and I found myself drawn to it now,

"Thank you. I'll miss you." It was odd. I imagined half the people in the dozens of rooms like these filled today were no doubt sobbing tears of mourning. Not my family, not me. I was here by choice, and I planned on coming right back. Her delicate fingers reached up to my eye, the thin scar slashing right through it.

Then it was my fathers turn. He had never been the most affectionate with any of us, even the long hours he would take us (or me at least) on that water were only so I wouldn't cause any problems while he was off land. But it all changed when I turned 12, began training in the academy. A year later, earning myself that scar. My parents had been furious then.

"I'll miss you too, dad." suddenly his arms were around me, in an embrace I hadn't felt in years.

"You'll be incredible," his voice was a crackling whisper in my ear, "You're capable, a weapon in your own right. Use your strength." It might have been nothing more than practical advice, I could hear the gentleness in his voice, something I hadn't heard in a long time. Never actually, come to think of it.

"I know," I whispered right back, "I will." he pulled back, putting his heavy hands on my shoulders,

"Good, good," he pulled away with a final goodbye, the gestured to the rest of the Wolfe clan, getting them all to leave the room, "Come on troop. Let's get out of here, give her friends chance to say goodbye."

"By friends you mean Sea?" Daniel muttered, stalking out of the room with one last goodbye,

"Yes I mean Sea. Now come on, best let Chrys get on with it." The door closed.

Then I was alone.

…

Sea was more of the same. She was sad, of course, but also happy for me. She seemed sure that I was going to win, and I wished I shared her assurance.

"I will watch every day," she promised.

"I'll think about you everyday," I promised right back. We hadn't gotten much time to see each other recently, to the point I forgot what being in the same room for a long period of time felt like.

Just as she was about to leave, she stopped, turning back to me from the doorway,

"You'll come home, right?" We both needed the assurance.

"I'll try."

Mars Marker:

"I'm so sorry," Ethan Spring, the one who was supposed to take my place was pleading with me, "seriously. I was about to. But then I got to thinking and- and I don't want to die, ya know?" I raised my hands, and he stopped with his ramblings,

"It's okay, dude. _Seriously." _It was the second time I'd said it in the past 60 seconds.

"I understand, Ethan. Really. And it's fine. It's not like it's the worst thing in the world. There is a chance I'll come home." To be honest, I wasn't exactly sold on this, but I let my charisma do the talking for me. He nodded, sandy hair flopping into his eyes.

"Just to get that straight," he said, waking to the door, "I hope you make it back. I'm sorry," he said again. He closed the door behind Him.

After that came my parents and my little brother, Hopper. Mom fretted, obviously concerned.

"I've already lost Bellona to these silly games. I don't want to lose you too." The name sent a tension through the room. My older sister. My dead sister. Who had went in a happy 18 year old girl, and came back in a box, a body completely preserved. I remembered watching a boy from 7, something Dare, snap her neck. At least she hadn't been in pain. Hopper didn't realize just how serious the whole matter was, not yet anyways, so he made the whole ordeal out to be some big adventure. One I would return from in a few days. I didn't have the heart to tell him that wasn't true. I could win, might win. For Hopper. For my family. For Malachi and Brooke and Finn. _And Bay. _

It was the foursomes turn next. Bay leaping through the door, and I found myself taking part in a deep kiss. I heard someone make a clicking noise from the back of the room, but neither of us were in any hurry to break apart. It might be our last kiss ever. The thought was slightly saddening, but nothing I couldn't get past. Finally, Finn spoke from the corner of the room.

"Come on, Bay. We want to say goodbye too." When neither of us pulled back he clapped his hands, a few sharp taps.

"If he gets in so do I." He muttered. Finally, I pulled myself away, only to see Brooke lean into him.

"From which girl?" she teased. They weren't officially dating yet, but it was just a matter of time. I looked down at Bays hands, and found them shaking. Slowly, I laced my fingers with hers.

"I'll be okay," I pressed a sloppy kiss into her forehead, and she looked up at me,

"No. You won't. I won't. I can't just sit here and watch you fight for your life. I-"

"Oh, please. You might be his girlfriend but we're going to miss him too, you know." Malachi didn't seem to be taking this too well. We had always been close, and I could see past the anger he held up like a wall. He didn't want me to go,

"Ah, come on, Mal. Don't you want a goodbye kiss too?" He wrinkled his nose, turning to face Finn and Brooke in the corner, who were looking at me.

"This is so unfair," Finn said finally, and the entire group seemed to agree,

"Yeah," said Brooke and Malachi at the same time, "Yes. It is. You shouldn't have to suffer just because that idiot couldn't muster up enough courage to volunteer." Bay agreed. Except I understood Ethan. I wouldn't have wanted to willingly throw myself into this situation either.

"It's fine. I'm sure this will just be an interesting experience." Bay frowned, letting go of my hand to hug me tight. She was so much shorter than me it was a challenge. Her head rested on my chest, and surely he could hear my heart beat thumping steadily away. She let go of the same hand I had shaken Chrysanthe Wolfe's. That scar was quite unsettling, but it was an attention grabber. Which is how i recognized her in sight. I looked up at Malachi over Bay's head.

"Come on. Malachi Rivera," is mockingly reprimanded, "don't you want to join in?" He shook his head, but Brooke and Finn jumped up, Finn spoke for the both of them.

"We do."

They joined in on the group hug, and the now we were all waiting for Malachi.

"You're all insane, honestly," but he came to us anyways. It was nice. My friends, my girlfriend, my best, all here to see me off. The sadness in the moment was definitely pungent in the air however. I might be back soon enough, it's a slim chance, but a chance is a chance.

_May the odds truly be in my favor. _For Bay's sake, for Brooke's, Finn's and Malachi's. They all pulled away, gave their final goodbyes. Brooke landed a light kiss on my cheek,  
"_For luck,_" she had said, before fleeing the room, leaving me, Malachi and Bay alone. She got the message. Her kiss was another deep one, our connection flighty and brief, but it would have to be enough. It needed to be.

Soon enough I was alone with my friend of 10 years.

"I'll miss you." he said, not meeting my eyes, "I don't know what I'll do the leader of the pack missing from our group." I shrugged, taking a step closer to him,  
"I'll miss you too. And don't worry, I'm sure you'll be able to take that role on just fine. And look after them all, okay? Bay? Finn? Brooke?" he nodded, patting my shoulder with a heavy hand, he said a final goodbye. It was most likely final, period. A complete end. So I'd make it count.

"Goodbye, Malachi." the door closed behind him. Why did Ethan need to chicken out! This could have all been so much simpler. I shook my head, shaking the previous thought off too.

…

Soon enough we were on a Capitol train. It was gorgeous, even if the salty smell still cling to my clothes and hair, but I could ignore the oceanic saltiness of the air. These clothes would be gone soon enough, and pretty soon I'd be in the capitol. It was an odd thing to realize. Even odder to think that I would be praised for a week, before being thrown into an arena with a bunch of different kids trying to kill each other. A true bloodbath. Chrysanthe Wolfe stood beside me, her long sun bleached hair brushing against my bare arm. Then there was that scar, the one running all the way across her iris. It was odd, mesmerizing. She looked at me funny,

"I'm sorry Ethan didn't volunteer. You shouldn't be here." it wasn't an apology so much as an accusation, but it wasn't my fault, Ethan chickened out, I just got the raw end of the stick,

"Yeah. So I guess we're allies, huh?" she shrugged, stepping back from the window, her green eyes glinting just before I'm unable to see her face,

"I guess," her tone was tentative, like she didn't know what to make of me, and I didn't know what to make of her. Other than that she had steady hands, and a single scar. From where I don't know.

"Chrysanthe- can I call you Chrystal?" I don't know why I said it, but it was already out my mouth. She turned back to me, a single eyebrow raised,

"_Chrystal_? No. call me Chrysanthe, or Chrys. Call me Chrys. Now," she walked to the hallway, surely about to leave, "I'll talk to you later, but right now I need to go think. And by think, I mean shower."

"See you later, Chrystal!" I called at her back. I didn't see her face, but I could tell she was smiling. Then the door shut behind her.

Chrysanthe Wolfe:

_Chrystal. _I hate to admit but I could learn to live with that. But why did it make me smile so much.

Stop that Chrys, he has a girlfriend. He's just trying to get in my head. _But he's your ally. _Or is he? I needed to get to know him. See if I could really trust me, or if I should keep my distance. It was a big difference. One wrong move would lead to my own demise, so it was a weighty decision. I walked into one of the open compartments. My own private quarters. They were huge. Nice. A wide window across one wall, the scenery moving a mile a minute. I would give myself a better chance to take it all in, but first I needed to remove the salty smell from my surroundings. Which means saying goodbye to the cherry pink dress and black flats. I got rid of them quickly, almost haphazardly throwing them on the floor before getting into the shower in the second room, needing to wash the smell from my body too. I didn't need that reminder of home. Not now. There were hundreds of different buttons and knobs, most I wouldn't get the chance to use.

After a seeming forever, thoroughly washed hair and skin, I changed into a soft blue shirt and matching pants. I slip back in my shoes, wishing I had something to hold in my fingers. Anything. So I played with my hair instead. No matter how many times I had put my head under the steady stream of freshwater, the salt never really left. Just got fainter. By the time I was done in front of the mirror, my dried hair was pulled up into a pony tails, a few stray hairs falling into my eyes. Just as I was about to walk out a knock came at the door. So I walked out anyways and opened it up. Outside was Mars marker. He had changed to. A tank top, one that showed of the defined muscles of his biceps. Quite impressive.

"So… should we start planning?" I didn't give him a smile l, just let him walk in.

"Sure." I sat tentatively on the bed that wasn't mine and he followed suit.

I was expecting him to spot out some examples l, so when he didn't I coughed loudly, purposefully.

"So what is the plan?" He asked. It would need to change, I had made one with Ethan to suit both of us. I explained it to Mars, and he nodded,

"So we change the game plan." He seemed to like stating the obvious,

"_Obviously."_ And he started in on his own suggestion. It went something like this:

Go in with the career pack, stick with them until day 5 or until there are ten tributes left (*insert completely unfunny joke here) betray them. Go out spectate ways.

It was pitifully simple, but that was the beauty of it. Simplicity is the way to go. It took only a few minutes to lay out the plan. Just in time for dinner. My stomach was growling, demanding food. So I complied.

"Come on. I need food."

**There are now 15 slots filled. I'm having a really good time spinning out these chapters. I'm hoping to get the rest of the tributes so I can start with the training scenes and interviews. I've already started writing some of the death scenes, is that weird? Anyways, still open to arena suggestions and things people just want to see moving forward in the story. there are a few reservations still not filled (not yet anyways, but I'm hopeful), and I'm almost done writing most of the characters I already have. **

**I'd just like to thank everyone that's sent me characters so far. it's only been a week and over half the characters are already filled. So thank you. if you haven't, there are still a lot of available characters. just PM me, please. **


	5. Chapter 5 (D11)

**Chapter 5- farewells and (D11)**

_Reaping, Farewells, and the first night on the train_

Winstead Dale:

"And the male tribute from district 11 is… Winstead Cress Dale!" but my feet weren't moving. This wasn't happening. Abilene already stood on that stage, still don't know how that happened. I watched her recognize the name, my name. A tiny tear slips from her eye. My feet tart moving then, needing to get to her, to make the pain stop. But it would never stop. Not until we die. But she would go home. I would make sure of it. I bypassed any formality, to the discomfort of the capitol man with the short blue hair beside us, hugging her tightly instead of shaking her hand.

"This isn't fair to you." I whispered in her ear. _I'm going to make sure nothing can touch you in there. _I didn't say that part out loud. Just held her there until I was featured to my room. Where I would see my family. See Abilene's family. My goodbyes would be sad ones. Surely Georgia would be sobbing. Maybe Barric, Abilene's baby brother, would even shed a tear. Maybe both of sets of parents.

The kids cried. The parents only had reserved looks of sadness in their faces. My mother's gently fingers caressed my hand, being kind enough not to wipe the sweat off immediately after making contact. They were sweet, right to the very end. I'd miss them. I'd miss them greatly. But now I had to think about Abilene. She wasn't crying now, and she hadn't really cried before, but for someone reason I was expecting the waterworks. But Abilene was stronger than that. She was stronger than anyone knew. Except me. I knew everything about her, I was there for the majority of her memories. The good and the bad. Like the time she ran so fast she nearly threw up, then the time she actually had. Then there were the good things. Like the dozens of races the two of us had had. Running was the one passion we shared wholeheartedly. I had even made a point of taking the shoelaces off of a pair of running shoes, ones completely worn out with sadly thin soles and holes in the top. They were our tokens. I just needed to give one to her.

She was looking out the window, sadness in her eyes as the last part of our home disappeared. No matter the disappointed frown on her face, I was mesmerized by her pure beauty. I'm not sure why, but I took her hands, pulled her to face me, to look anywhere but at the window.

"I'm sorry, A. I'm sorry. This isn't fair to you." but it wasn't what I really wanted to say. I wanted to say she was mesmerizing, golden eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun, skin glistening in that very same light. Her dress might have been cut straight down, a pretty purple that complimented her tanned skin, but I didn't care about the figure she didn't have. I cared about the frown and the need to wipe it away,

"You look beautiful, Abilene." now, I told myself. Now I would kiss her. Except I didn't move I couldn't do that to her, to me. It was too cruel to start that now, only for it to be stripped away in a week. So I just stared into her eyes, those beautiful gold flecked eyes.

Abeline Ackerman:

My feet pounded the well worn walks of district 11. Grass beside the path seemed to blow freely. A boy with red hair was on my heels, and I could hear his heavy panting behind me. Keep running, Abilene. I was so close to the fence. So close. My fingers stretched out, I was about to win. I was about to… laughter from behind me was whipped and contorted by the wind coming at us. I looked behind me just in time to Winstead pull ahead, and tap the fence with one outstretched hand. Soon as he did, he collapsed to the slightly damp ground, laughing all the way down. Or more like loud wheezing breath. I'll admit it, I had set us a long course. It might have been an accident, or it might have been an attempt to forget what comes tomorrow.

He opened his eyes, "I won." I sat down beside him, folding my legs into my chest,

"No fair," I panted right next to him, I should have gotten some water rations before taking this route, "I should've won," he rolled over onto his side, arm acting as a pillow for his head,

"Should've? Because I'm pretty sure it was always going to be me. But good job," he held out his free hand to me, wanting me to shake it. I did, putting my hand in his, but just as I was about to let go he pulled me closer to him, and I found myself lying beside him the open field. We were so close then, so i needed to do was close my eyes and lean in, and we'd be kissing. Instead, he frowned, something not usual for him,

"I know why you made me do this course tonight?" I shook my head, rolling to face away from him, but he forced me to turn back,

"Look," he tried again, finally pinning my arms under his own and against the grass, "I know you don't want to talk about it. But still."

"Let go," I whispered, and he complied. Soon as he did I stood, "I'll race you back to my place," and I began to run, didn't stop even more my contesting legs and pounding head. Just pretend it doesn't exist. Pretend and it will go away.

But that was last night. The last night before my name was drawn. The night before Winstead's name was drawn. Before I knew we would both die soon. I had been so nervous. I had been about to tell him what I really felt. _We should be more than just friends_. So stupid.

"I'm sorry, A. I'm sorry. This isn't fair." Winstead gripped at my shoulders, forcing me to keep eye contact.

"This isn't fair for either of us." I felt numb. Suddenly I was back there, I was back on the stage. My name had just been drawn, and I was doing my best to control the fear and the painful look in my eyes. But then the escort drew the next name. That was the name that sent a single tear sliding down my face. _Winstead Dale. _Why did it have to be both of us? Two friends going in. Neither one coming out. This was a cruel cruel world. Instead of shaking hands up there, we had embraced tightly. This couldn't be happening. Why did this world have to do this to us?

Barric came in first, my parents sliding in behind him. He was the same age as Winstead's younger sister.

"Why do you have to go?" He asked. He wasn't exactly young, but his name was in that bowl three times that year, but that was cruel enough. No tesserae rations for him, for any of my family. We got along alright without them.

"I know Bar. I'm not too happy about it either."

Not only did my family visit me in my room, but Winstead's too. I'm sure mine went to him, and they traded rooms it seemed. His mother was so kind. So sad.

"You two could have been something. Something incredible. Your wedding…" she had always wanted us to be more than friends. But not I'm glad we weren't, it would be too painful now, it's bad enough that I'm going to die with my best friend in that arena. A lover would be unmanageable. His sister, Georgia, came charging in, wrapping her skinny arms around me. She was much shorter than me, so it was sort of awkward to hug her, but I did. It was odd how uncanny the two were. Barric and Georgia. They might be better matched than Winstead and I. Just a matter of time… except I'd never get to see it.

"You were supposed to be my sister in law," she complained. His entire family wanted us to be _more than friends, _it seems

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." she looked up at me, those brown brown eyes just like Winstead's pleading with me,

"You'll look after him, won't you?" I laughed, an sound entirely unfunny, He'd probably be the one looking after me. Instead of being honest, I just nodded,

"Of course I can, Georgia. Do my a favor?" I was trying to keep a smile on my face, but the tears were starting to flow again. I leaned in conspiratorially, like I was about to tell her a secret, she leaned in too,

"Of course," her eyes were alight, even if the tears were still flowing freely,

"I need you to look after Barric. Can you do that for me? I think he'll miss Winstead," It's a common thing, to refer to Winstead as Barric's older brother as much as I am his older sister. She giggled, nodding,

"I'm going to miss you too, Abilene. My Sister." we were truly sisters, that was something I knew, something both the Ackerman's and the Dale's knew. There were four different children, one family. Maybe a little more than family. I know I like him, Winstead. It was something always on my mind, and on his too.

"I'm going to miss you too, Georgia."

I was snapped out of the sad scene to see Winstead, and Winstead alone,

"Hey, okay?" his normally bright red hair was dampened to a darker red, and I was reminded of just how much he sweat. He had worn a dark shirt the reaping, because surely his underarms would be darkened if it weren't for the dark color,

"No." honesty is the best policy, but the fear in his eyes made me regret it.

"I know," he agreed, a crease forming between his eyebrows, "me too." Except he wasn't angry, not that I was surprised. The old soul in his body was always kind and loving. Too loving. He as more worried about me, my family and his than himself.

"Allies?" He asked like he was ready for disappointment, like I'd say no.

My response was leaps big into his arms, hugging him again.

"Of course. I wouldn't trust anyone else." His palms were wet, I could feel it through the back of my shirt as he held me, but I wasn't repulsed by it. Never repulsed by it. By him.

"Thank god, I want you all to myself." I could hear the smile on how voice, and I pulled back just a bit, looking up into his eyes, he stared into mine,

"You're beautiful, Abilene." I could see in his eyes that he wasn't teasing. I looked over his own handsome face, his twig of a body, the redness that lingered from his sunburn days ago. Deep brown eyes, messy red hair. It turned my lips up into a smile.

"And you," I pulled away, a small bit of turbulence pulling me away as the train left the station, "Are very handsome." he smiled and laugh, breaking the serious impression swiftly in two. This was Winstead. My Winstead. The jokester, the one who liked to flirt with me like it was all a game. The one who had hugged me up on that stage, not knowing or caring how it would look. He was too good for this fate. Maybe we both were.

He kissed my forehead with a little too much force, pushing me backward slightly. Taking up my hand he started us on a walk down the train,

"Come on, let's explore." but the further we went, the more detesting my body became of the situation. I felt sick, nauseous. No one else would notice the swaying of the train beneath us, but he could, and so could I. for the first time in a long time, I stumbled. He caught me, smoothly.

"What's wrong?" he breathed in my ear, the smell was familiar and reminded me of home. Not that I'd get to see that place again. I didn't tell him that I had been running again this morning, and that I probably ran a little too far and hard.

Any warmth I had drained out of my body, and I shook my head, just wanting to sleep. The sun hadn't set yet, but I couldn't imagine staying conscience.

"Nothing. Just don't feel well." I got the sense that, if he could, he would have lifted me up, carried me like a small child all the way to my room. Only he wasn't all that strong, no matter the amount of manual labor he did, he remained a skinny elongated twig. Instead, he took his arm and threw it around my shoulders and led me to one of the open rooms.

"Sit," he hurriedly suggested, and I complied, head still spinning. I closed my eyes, and find myself falling down to curl up on my side, just like I had last night.

I heard a flow of water coming from another room, only to be turned off seconds later. In another instant I heard footsteps walking back into the room. A damp cloth put over my forehead.

"There you go," he whispered, pecking my cheek affectionately. Why couldn't it have been on the mouth? But my consciousness was already slipping away.

Winstead Dale:

She slept through the entirety of our dinner, the escort didn't seem to like that much. But I insisted on her getting some sleep. He didn't give much argument. Then I met our mentor. Her name was Quinn Blake, a 30 something year old that had won her games 10 years ago. She had short cut hair, it was blunt like she had done it herself. Her eyes were bloodshot and grey, and she didn't really pay all that much attention to me. She looked up just enough to notice that only one of her tributes actually present, answering questions with a nod or a shake of her head.

The escort ended up asking some server to make Abilene up a plate. That server was quickly dismissed, made up a plate and then began to walk down the hall. I excused myself quickly after, catching the woman with her dark hair in a tight bun barely a foot into the hallway,

"Hey," I pushed my hair back, knowing I would need to shower tonight, "Do you think I could take that to her? Please?" the woman didn't speak, just gave me a tired look. Her silence was uncomfortable, like she was evaluating me. But I seemed to pass, because a moment later she dropped the plate into my hands. I thanked her quickly, taking a brisk walk to Abilene's room.

Though I nearly walked past the room, I stopped myself short. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door quietly. No response. I tried again a little louder. Again, no response. So I opened the door, slowly. Saw Abilene just as I had left her. She was peaceful in sleep, small. A delicate flower. A rose. But all roses have thorns. I thought I knew what that was, her undeniable stamina and agility, her undetectable charm and kindness… but was there more to her than met the eye? Even mine? Was the old soul with a smart head and kind heart really who she was? The paranoia left me the second she rolled over, groaning slightly. She's your best friend, I tell myself. You know her better than you know herself. I guess these games just turn you against your friends. Against everyone.

I set the food aside, waiting for her to wake up, to see those eyes again. She did. After maybe a couple of minutes, maybe an hour. Maybe more. But some amount of time later, she finally moved her hands up to her forehead, pulling the cloth that was mostly dry now away. Throwing it right in my face. I caught it easily, dropping it beside me on the bed. She opened her eyes, saw me and tried to get up.

"I…" I gently pushed her back down, lacing my fingers in hers. I shushed her slightly, then revised it,

"How are you doing? Feeling any better?" she laughed slightly, before nodding,

"Yeah," she closed her eyes, squeezing my hand tightly, "Just felt a little dizzy." over exerted herself, again. It was nothing unusual for her.

"Did you run this morning?" her silence was answer enough,"You need to stop doing this, A. you can't keep running yourself to the point of sickness." she tried to let go of my fingers, but I held tight, forcing her to listen to me,

"It's nothing," she tried to play it off, but we both knew it was something,

"I'm serious. For someone who cares so much about other people, you don't seem to care much about yourself." she didn't answer, and maybe she'd try to pretend to be asleep, but her fingers were twitching in my grasp.

"Come on, Abilene. Please." then I remembered out tokens,

"Well then, maybe this will change you mind." she opened her eyes, sitting up next to me. Slowly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the long yellow cords of lacing. I didn't give her one, but instead asked her to hold you her hand, and I tied the cord there like a bracelet. Then I did my own. Each one on our left wrists.

"There." she seemed mesmerized by the simple faded laces,

"Thank you," she whispered. It felt awkward, getting such a reverent response to something so minute. It was only a simple gesture. But she treated it like so much more.

"Well, I figured you'd need something to remind you of how much you like running. Or maybe of the fact that I'm faster than you. Either way" I gave her a small shrug and she laughed slightly, then her eyes traveled to the food.

"You brought me food?" except it wasn't a question, not really. Or not that exact question at least. It was more like _why did you bring me food? _Standing to grab it off the table, I brought it back to her, the fork nearly sliding right off the side before catching it skillfully.

"Yeah, figured you'd be hungry." she thanked me again before attacking her food with the vigor of a wild animal. She probably hadn't gotten to eat lunch, but that wasn't all of it.

"This is incredible," she said between bites. I was just about to stand up and leave, when she finished her full plate, it had disappeared in five minutes flat. She could use the energy, god knows she wastes enough of it on running. Not a bad thing, except for her. She just needed to stop. It was unhealthy how far she pushed herself, and she does it all the time. I took her plate, leaving it by the door, but just as I opened it she stopped me,

"Wait." she commanded, I turned around, the sky was almost dark, and her face had a mysterious shadow to it. I did as she ordered, "where are you going?" I shrugged, "to my own room. You should get some more sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day." she shook her head,

"Could you stay with me tonight?" the question surprised me, but I shrugged,

"Sure."

Turning back, I walked to the bed. Abilene closed her eyes. The bed didn't even creak as I put my entire body weight on it.

She was so small beside me. Small and warm. She turned over to face me again, on the other side of the large bed,

"So," she said, "what did I miss at dinner?" I laughed,

"Not much. Other than our shell shocked mentor." and I told her about the blank stares and the uneventful meal. She nodded along with the sentence. I'm not sure why, but my heart was beating slightly harder than normal, I was sweating pretty badly too, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Then I realized what it was. I hadn't slept in the same room as Abilene since we were 12. It was actually quite a similar situation. She had gotten herself sick, much like this time, and she needed someone to stay with her. Barric and Georgia were at my own house, and the parents had been off somewhere, neither of us had known where.

I fell asleep to the sound of her deep breathing. It was a peaceful noise, just like the melody that was her voice. I woke up with my arm under her head, used as a makeshift pillow. Her body was curled into the space mine left, and it was sweet. I was waiting for her to wake up, I didn't want to wake her up without needing to. She did, a few minutes later.

"Morning," she yawns, turning around to face me.

"Come on. It's time to rise and face the day." It's time to get ready for the Capitol. She sighed,

"Fine." but a heaviness hung in the air. At least if I went down, I'd go down at her side. It was the one thing that made me smile, then looking down at her wrist and mine, seeing the shoelaces, made the smile widen.

**16/24 spots are currently filled. SO happy. I'd like to get the rest of them fairly soon. Appreciate everyone that has already submitted and would appreciate a few more. **


	6. Chapter 6 (D5)

**Chapter 6**

Reaping and goodbyes

Lillith Sparks:

_The sting of a knife cutting through my flesh and drawing my very red blood makes me want to scream. All I can hear is my own screams, the man's cruel pleasure in every second. The long scratches on my arm being dug deeper and deeper. Then the knife went to my throat. _

"_This won't hurt at all, dear." a steely smile, one carved into flesh. Words written in blood on the walls. Written in my blood. Scars writing out words on my skin. Screaming, oh so much screaming. The screaming never seems to end…_

A knock came at the door, knocking the memory loose. It was Jamie,

"Almost done in there, Lil?" I cleared my throat, knowing that there was a slim chance that it would be filled with tears.

"Yeah. just let me get my shoes on." I slid the uncomfortable shoes on, and they slid properly over the tights already running down my entire legs. I had been wearing the matching skirt and white long sleeved shirt for only a few minutes, but it was already stifling. Not that I'd show off my arm, not the long careless scars there, even if it sweat me to death, "_to remember me by." then I'm screaming I-_

I walk out to see Jamie in front of the door, then looking past him I see Brendan and Hayley. Hayley shrieks playfully and Brendan messes with her long hair. Usually does it to me, but I guess the little sister works too. Jamie slides his fingers into mine, walking me to the center of the room to join the other two.

"let's do this." and so the traditional trading of tokens began. Every year it was mostly the same.

We sat in a circle in Brendan's room, he has no siblings so we have qualms about being loud, each of us giving a small token to someone that had already been decided. I handed off a small chain with a rose pendant to Hayley, and her eyes study the thing. She give something I can't see off to Brendan, he passes something off to Jamie and then it comes back to me. Except he doesn't give me anything.

"What?" I ask, he's smiling,

"Close your eyes." he orders.

"_Just close your eyes, dear. It won't hurt a bit." then my skin is broken, cut through cleanly. Except there's blood on my dress, metal in the air and- _

He sees the look of fear in my eyes, squeezes my fingers,

"It's okay," his whisper is light, "I'm not going to hurt you." that's because he would never hurt me, which is what lets me close my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I ask, he's humming a familiar tune and I can hear him fiddling with my hair,

"Something." he calls, then his fingers find mine again, "there. I'm done." it's the usual flirting, nothing more than that, ever. But his smile is wide when I open my eyes again. I hadn't realized ow fast my heart had been going before it slowed down. I reach up my fingers to where he had touched with his, finding the feel of paper under my finger tips. I felt moved.

"_Remember me, dear. I'll be waiting for you." _

He took my other hand,

"Thank you," I whispered to the silence. I hear Hayley scoff behind me,

"What?" I sighed, "It's just a paper flower. What's the big deal?" she needed to work on that. She had gotten better but…

"Hayley," Jamie reprimanded,

"What?" she repeated. I shook my head. All at once the rest of us sighed.

There's still an hour to the reaping, but I stood up anyways, sprawling out onto B's bed. I hate wearing skirts, I have to be careful not to show any of them what's underneath it. At least I only have one more reaping day after this. One more, and then I can forget about this, forget about all of it.

"Are you ready?" I sighed, pulling myself to sitting again. The bed wasn't exactly soft but better than the floor.

"For what?" I heard a creak as another body found its place sitting on Brendan's bed. Surprised, surprise, it's Brendan. I felt his fingers lace through my hair,

"For the reaping? Remember how many times your names in this year?" I shook my head,

"Of course I remember." my voice was low, reminding him of how my brothers refused to let me take out any tesserae. I turned around to mess with B's hair right back. It was falling past his ears, he could need to cut it soon. But it sure was fun to play with. I flopped it all into his eyes, and he laughed.

"This a good look?" I gave him a thumbs up,

"Absolutely."

It's easy to lie around them. Or maybe it's not lying so much as pretending everything is fine, like the incident back when I was 14 had no affect on me at all. Pretending. That's a much better word.

_The blade was beautiful, delicate. It was too pretty for its purpose. Then it was at my face, slashing three long marks. 3 painful digs into flesh. I'm still screaming as it moves down to my arm. As the man seemed to brand me. "You're mine." I hate the smell of metal, hate it. But it's in my mouth and my nose, running into my eyes and staining my dress. _

We're walking to the town square, my feet looking tiny next to Brendan's large one and Jamie's even larger ones. People notice us, the usual quartet. Known for always being around each other. Known for Jamie's and Brendan's popularity. Well, that and the renown incident still fresh in everyone's mind, as well as on my face and arm. They were scars that would never heal, not without some capitol surgery. Finally we're there. I feel the boy on each side of me kiss my cheeks at the same second.

"See ya after." Jamie is the first to go, standing with the 18 year old boys, the ones he doesn't know. He's still in our year, just turned 18. Then there's Hayley, going to her 15 year old girls section. I can't bare to see them go, knowing each of them has a chance of being drawn. Brendan moving to 17 year old boys, me the girls.

Her fingers are reaching into the bowl.

_His fingers stretched out, reaching for my face…_

She pulls out the card…

_He puts down the stained knife…_

"_Lillith." his whisper is steely, caressing my cuts with his fingers, getting blood on them, under his nails… _

"Lillith Sparks!" the cheery voice felt steely on my ears, just like the knife up my sleeve, just in case. Right over my crudely scratched scars. Scars a plenty it seemed, from that one incident years ago. For a long moment I was still. The crowds of children around me fell silent, waiting for me to start moving. Bu it was the peacekeepers that finally got me moving. They seemed close in on all sides, but the one that touched me first was behind me. He touched my shoulder, it was a firm tap, pushing me forward, but he didn't get to touch me. None of them did. I spun around, grabbing the hand and shoving it away. I made my voice steel,

"Touch me again, and I'll relieve you of that hand." I might not be able to use it, but I have my ways, and my weapons. Weapon.

My walk is slow, calculated, purely designed to make the woman on stage go insane with waiting. Her smile was too wide, too unnatural, the grotesque makeup piled onto her

face made me want to gag.

"Welcome, dear," "_You're mine now, dear." _I wanted to run away from this, from all of this. I felt all eyes on my face, on the light brown hair that fell into my eyes, that is the three jagged scars. "_A memento to remember me by, after they take me away." _she smiled at me, a small girl in a ratty dress. A hand clutching at my covered arm. It was doing terrible things to me in this heat, but I'd never show off the scars, the ones on my face were bad enough. Either way, I felt myself begin to sweat,

"Well, how does it feel, Miss Sparks? To be representing your fine district?" the smile was definitely a fake one. I gave her a fake one of my own,

"It feels wonderful," I'm quite a good liar. Even if I wasn't she wouldn't have pressed the matter.

"I get the chance to represent my fellow citizens in your pageant of tributes," _I'm not ready to die. _But the smile on her face, a little less forced, proved I had done something right. I still clutched at the hidden scar at my forearm.

"Well then, let's find us your partner, shall we?" I flicked my hair over my face a little farther, doing my best to hide the puckered lines with my hair, for the most part I succeeded.

I nodded and she walked over to the boys reaping bowl. Dug those sick claws into the slips of paper, surely she'd cut more than one. But she didn't. Instead, she pulled out my partners slip.

"And the male tribute is… Drake Ru." a dark boy with albeit striking blue eyes walks up to the stage, another small kid surely one about to die. His nod reveals just how sad he is, just how much he can tell he's going to die. A screaming sob could be heard from the back of the herd of people, and I looked back to see his sister or something screeching, a hand over her delicate mouth. I was surprised to find that I recognized the face, even in its state of obvious pain. The mayor's wife. The pregnant mayor's wife. He didn't answer answer any of the escorts question, and I could see his hands shaking slightly, and I was surprised the kid wasn't crying. Then again, he didn't look all that young. Maybe 15 or 16. A year or two younger than me.

"District 5, I give you your tributes." the applause we garnered was halfhearted at best, the sound of screaming still heard over it all. She clutched at the hand of an older woman probably her mother. _The screaming never ends. _We were gestured into the private rooms.

_Mine. _

I can feel the word carved into my skin, cut crudely into my forearm.

...

my friends had visited, along with my large family. it was sad, Hayley said something horribly insensitive. That part was normal at least. just as I left the room, I stuck the knife once slid up my sleeve into the large table, not like I'd get to keep it. It stood up straight, the point disappearing into the stained wood.

_Mine_

Drake Ru:

I would never get to meet my nephew. My head nodded, my feet achingly slow. A scream from behinds the crowd draws everyone's attention. It was Lin. a hand over her mouth, another clutching at my mother's hand. Then I looked back to my district partner Lillith Sparks. I recognized the name. It had happened years ago, but it was something everyone knew about. Still a topic of gossip. But the gossip never mentioned the scars across her face, the ones I could barely see through the curtain of her light hair.

"Well, Mr. Ru. how does it feel?" I don't give her an answer, not letting my voice crack on me. She tried again a few times, each question more and more vague. Still don't answer.

"District 5, I give you your tributes!" the woman practically flees the stage, or at least she fled as fast as she can wearing those ridiculous shoes. I left soon after, knowing the drill even if I'd never done it myself. Got myself to a room to say goodbye.

For a few moments I'm alone. For a few heart wrenching moments I feel like I'm about to shatter. Then the entire family came in at once. Lin still crying, though now she's holding her husband's hand. The mayor, a fact that certainly didn't hurt us in any way. Then Aang, middle child. His dark hair is in need of a cut, hanging nearly to his shoulders. I was surprised he wasn't wearing his dam uniform. He probably would have been, if not for the reaping. The next person to walk through the door still had a ring on his finger, even if the person wearing the matching ring had been buried years ago. My father.

"Drake," it's hard to hug Lin over her pregnant belly, but she does her best, "Drake. I'm sorry." Except sorry doesn't do anything, especially if the thing you're apologizing for isn't even that person's fault. Instead of trying to take up that point I just patted her shoulder,

"It's okay. It's not your fault." she normally never cried. Pregnancy was doing cruel things to her normally quiet disposition.

"I'll miss you all." I made eye connection with my father, and I saw him tearing up. He hasn't cried since the funeral. Neither has Lin, actually. Aarong just didn't cry, plain and simple, and it seems neither did I.

"Dad…" he shook his head, hands clenched together in front of him. Lin went back to the Mayor, who was standing in the corner, seemingly not wanting to be seen. Didn't feel like he belonged in the Ru clan. He looked back down to his hands,

"Dad, I'm sorry." it was odd seeing Aarong next to my father. The easy going aura around Aarong compared to the astute reserved energy that seemed to hang around my father. I couldn't tell if a man like him owned a library because he was like that, or he became like that because of the large expanse of his collection. He smiled, the few tears stopped flowing,

"It's not your fault." he had an accent, one that none of his children seemed to have carried on.

Aarong was kind, sad but accepting of my fate. The mayor paid his dues, then made himself scarce, but only after whispering something in Lin's ear. I hugged Lin again three times before she disappeared along with her husband. Aarong left next, leaving me alone with dad.

"Be careful," his soft voice was melodic, as always.

"I will." I remember all the times people had been cruel in the hallways at school, how much I truly believed (and still do) that I wouldn't hesitate given the chance to kill them. I could. I would.

To be honest, I'm not sure whether I had lied to my dad or not. Whether I would in fact be careful or not, but here I was. My father was gone, leaving me alone with my one true friend. Freddie Barrel.

He came charging in.

"No way dude." he couldn't believe it either. For a split second, I wondered who had visited Lillith. That's silly, I told myself, she has friends. _More than I do. _

"yeah...I'm going in the Hunger Games." he deflated in an instant,

"I know." he was shaking his head. Freddie was the complete opposite of me. Pale skin, built like along the lines of a sturdy wall. Towering over me and my short stature. Maybe not the smartest but plenty friendly enough. His sandy blond hair cut short compared to my own dark locks. We worked well together, equal parts brain and brawn. I'm the brains of the duo.

"It sucks man," I gave him a tight lipped smile, not letting myself do anything else. Not sure what I would do if I did let myself do anything. It might be no different than how I am now,

"Yeah." the hollow voice doesn't sound like mine, not in the least. He heard the difference too,

"You'll come home, right?"

He might be a bit bulky, but he's all there. Kind. looking out for me, with unwavering optimism. If only I could borrow some. Because I knew. I knew the moment my name was drawn. I knew I was going to die. No that's not articulate enough. I knew eventually I would die. Everyone I'd ever interacted with would one day meet their end, I just never knew mine would come so soon. I'm only 15, and I read somewhere, at least before Panem, the average age to die was 80. And here I am, at 15? But who knows, maybe my death might come later, maybe I'll survive all this.

"I'll do my best, friend." his smile was slightly forced, and continued that way all throughout my final minute with him.

"How long have we been friends?" I laughed as I remembered the answer,

"Since we were 7."

"And how did we meet?"

"I… I can't remember." the smile was a little less forced now,

"Oh, I'm sure you can." I sighed. This was fun, it was nice just to talk to him,

"Maybe I do. Maybe I remember the day that a kid, one that looked way too big to be seven years old by the way, stopped another kid from picking on me."

"Hey! I'm just the right size. _You're _the one whose too small." I raised my hands, admitting that I was quite short, especially compared to the slab of muscle on the other side of the room.

"What was his name? Lyle?"

"Yeah. and he's so small now, it's pretty funny that he ever picked on you."

"Lyle Worthe. he's almost smaller than I am. I-" a gentle knock came at the door, signalling that my time was up. Telling me to say goodbye.

His eyes darken, "Remember me- remember any of that. Please." I nodded. He walked to the door, but not before turning back one last time,

"Goodbye, Drake. I hope to see you again soon." my tight lipped smile is back.

"You will. On a screen." watching me die some sort of painful death. The door closes behind him.

By the time I turn away from the window, I see Lillith Sparks about to disappear into the hall. So I stopped her,

"Hey." she looked back at me, outwardly annoyed that I had tried to talk to her.

"What?" she wasn't smiling now, not like she had been up on the stage. Her fingers were on the paper flower tucked behind her ear.

"Nothing. Just wanted to talk." her fingers dropped, finding rest on her other arm. It seemed a common thing for her.

"Well, I don't." promptly she turned on her heel, beginning to walk down the hallway.

I hurried after.

"I noticed." why am I doing this? I should just let her go, let her disappear into her own little world and let myself do the same. Yet I keep pursuing.

"Just leave me alone, okay. I don't want to talk.""Funny. I need to talk." her pacing stopped suddenly, and I nearly crashed into her back, into that starched white shirt and long navy skirt. She turned around again, and I got a look at those long scars before her hair moved to cover them again,

"About what?" I didn't know. About anything but this situation. Like how Freddie had made me think of when we were kids, when the reapings couldn't touch us.

"Maybe about those scars?" her clenched jaw let me know it was a touchy subject.

"I got these a long time ago. Can barely remember it." we both knew it was a lie, but she didn't care to correct it. We both knew that she had gotten them from the incident. Something talked about but never really explained. I think I was too young to remember. Maybe 11?

"I think we both know where you got them." after that, she promptly fled. Not to be seen again until dinner.

I was already halfway through my plate when she stormed in. the white blouse hanging untucked. I couldn't help but notice she wasn't wearing her shoes either. She was talking to the escort, the woman gave her an open smile,

"Excuse me miss, but are there any long sleeved shirts? I was looking my room but couldn't find any." the woman's smile switched from slightly annoyed to more than a little concerned.

"I'm sorry, dear. But everything should already be in your room." Lillith shook her head,

"I need something that covers my sc- that covers my arms." why couldn't she just keep that shirt on? Okay, that didn't sound right, even thinking it. Her eyes flicked to me,

"What?" she snapped, again. I looked back down into my food. I hear her turn back to the woman,

"I'm sorry," the woman sang once more, "but anything that you could change into is already in the room. And why not keep that on? You look… well you look well enough in that. She stomped away, bare feet making a slapping sound as she walked.

Lilith Sparks:

My fingers ran over the clothes again. I can't keep doing this. But there wasn't a long sleeved shirt of dress in the entire wardrobe.

_You're mine. _

My fingers race faster, but I still come to the same conclusion. Nothing that could cover my scars. I don't want to keep the reaping clothes on, I don't want to smell my mother in the folds of the frantic, and the stench of plenty of teenagers crowded together in a nerve racking situation. It didn't end well for anyone. So I'm faced with the ultimatum: reveal my hack job of an arm or keep on these clothes. at least I wouldn't have to worry about concealing my knife, I had left that dug into the wall of the room they had led to, sticking straight out. I sigh, and pull on the new shirt.

It's well made, new. Pure cotton and slightly too big. I leave the old clothes in the bathroom, ready to forget about them. The pants are sturdy, like I've never felt before. But the shirt left something to be wanted. As in I could see the puckered white lines scratched into my arm.

_The dark room surrounded me. Stuffy. The smell of rust attacks my nose, and I knew it was caused by my own spilled blood. It's the thing that stiffening the fabric, that I can't get away from. This time the screaming isn't mine. It's his. _

For the second time a loud knock at the door jarred me loose of the memory.

"You coming?"

"Yes." It was barely above a whisper, but the feet pounded away anyways. The footfalls were hard, it made me wonder how a boy that size was able to produce such a loud noise. My hands came and clasped in front of me, hiding the word from sight. Not before getting another look at the painful memories slashed carelessly into my skin. Suddenly I was 14 again, scared. Alone. Except I hadn't been alone that night.

I tore out of the room, needing to get out of my head. The food helped. Even though I had seen the kid make up a plate before, one he was almost finished when I showed up the first time, he grabbed another mountain of food. It almost trumped mine, but I was hungry. I hardly looked at the scars, but turned my wrist down anyways. It was an uncomfortable angle, but better than needing to explain. Until I noticed his eyes flick down to my arm,

"What are you doing?" I dropped my hand off the table, and it fell to my side. Except it was my left arm, and I'm left handed.

"It's nothing." Just to make my point, I take a sip of the rich liquid in the mug, using my right hand. It was sweet, warm, the chocolaty smell rising off making me warm inside. It scalded my tongue, but it was quite honestly worth it.

"You sure about that?" I wanted to snap, make him leave me alone. I didn't.

"Yes, I am." he shrugged, and I surveyed him slowly. Could I trust him? I definitely couldn't, but I couldn't let him see that could I?

**This chapter took a little longer to ****write, so I'm all behind schedule for the other chapters. I don't think I'll be updating as often, maybe ever 3-5 days. So I just hope you like it. next chapter's going to be from district 6, then from 2 (or maybe the other way around either way, one of those two is next). After that, I don't have anymore full districts, so I would appreciate that. otherwise I'm just going to make the characters up myself (and no one wants that). **


	7. Chapter 7 (D6)

**I would just like to give a huge thanks to everyone that's submitted so far. The characters I've gotten are all so intricate and things I never would have thought of for characters. They're all ****fun to write, and I feel so grateful and honestly surprised anyone submitted at all. but there are only 4 spots left! and it's only been two weeks or so. I honestly can't believe that, considering I was sure this stroy would kinda go up in flames.**

**Still available: D1 Male, D8 Male (reserved), D9 Male and D12 Male **

**I don't care how you get them to me, or if you've already sent in the max. characters, jut get them to me. I'd appreciate it. But here's chapter 7. **

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_reapings, goodbyes, the first night and morning on the train_

Solana Ennis

"I-I. I me-mean-" I cut myself off, knowing that I would stutter so much worse.

"Did you hear me?" I nodded, "how are you feeling?"

Then the tears started falling. Small at first, but then my vision got blurry. Cheeks wet, I studied the floor. Studied my worn shoes and my lavender dress that hasn't changed in ages. It probably looked exactly like this when my mother wore it to her own reapings years ago.

When the escort realized that I wouldn't answer she moved on.

"Well then, how old are you dear?" surely she was expecting a younger age, much younger than I actually am,

"Six-sixteen. I'm sixteen." the woman blinks, slowly. Her caked on makeup seems to be sliding off her face, though the immaculate neon wig still clung to her head unwaveringly.

"Well then… well. Let's find your partner, shall we?" I nodded, looking back to my shoes. Her shoes clicked loudly as she walked. The sudden stop lead me to believe she was in front of the boys bowl. The rustle of paper proving it. I peeked out under my lashes to see her eyes trained on the paper, ready to watch whoever that name belonged to slaughtered in a game purely for her entertainment.

"And the male tribute from District 6 is… John Burr." how did her mouth barely move?

The boy was large, too bulky to be from district 6, built like something along the lines of a large wall. When asked the question I didn't answer he gave the woman an obviously sarcastic smile,

"Oh, just wonderful." his words were dripping with the sarcasm, and it led me to wonder whether or not he was choking on it. He wasn't. The woman didn't pick up on the falseness to his tone.

"Isn't that just wonderful?" it was a joke to John. Without thinking bout it he seemed to slip his fingers into open pockets. I caught a glimpse of scratched fingers before they disappeared into the fabric. Odd. well, the entirety of John Burr was an oddity, so scarred fingers were really nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing's out of the ordinary when the ordinary isn't really ordinary is it?

…

The escort spoke to John for a few more minutes, seemingly pleased with how the conversation had went and definitely not realizing that the boy had been making fun of her, mimicking the accent and adding obvious undertones of fake generosity and sarcasm. All the same she announced the tributes of district 6, setting my undeniably likely death in stone. I shake one of those mutilated scars with my own. My hands were tiny, puny, compared to the block attached to his arms, those arms roped with tight coiled muscles. I was then led to an ornate room to say goodbye. It was only Shock and my family who visited me. Not that John had many more visitors than I did surely. Might have a large family but still.

Twila was too young for this. I didn't want to explain to her that her older sister wasn't coming back. I didn't want to explain she would have to watch me die. Instead I just gave her a wide smile. She returned it.

"I'm just going away for a little while," it broke my heart lie, but it was all I could do, "I'll be back for you. I promise." she was too small. Too small to be 11. Too soon the little girl in front of me would have to watch me kill or be killed. Too soon she would have a slim chance of being chosen for this herself. She nodded, her tiny arms wrapping around my arms. I did my best to hug her back,

"I'll miss you," she sobbed into my shoulder. I made eye contact with my mother over the dark hair Twila and I shared. She was clutching tightly at dad's hand. He gripped her with the desperation of a man lost at sea, clinging to the last bit of a civilization. The affection they share for one another, for the whole clan obvious. Tiny tears fell down her cheeks. Mourning for a daughter she hasn't quit lost, but might as well be dead.

"I'll miss you too, Twi." Then it was Hydro's turn. His dark black hair and tanned skin followed my mothers colouring. Mine matched my dads. Pale skin and almost-blond-brown hair.

Hydro understood what this meant. He knew what he was about to see. Which was why the lack of tears surprised me. I led him to the corner, not wanting anyone else to hear this. When we were alone, I looked at him. He was nearly the same height as me, getting that part from my father. Tall with no body mass hide his stretching bones.

"We both know what's going to happen." He nodded, solemn. It was an expression he was too young carry.

"Good." It's not good, things will never be good again, "you'll be the oldest sibling now. You need to look after Twila." We were both too young to have this conversation. 16 and 13. It shouldn't be my right to ask him to look after Twila. Yet the task still falls on me. He couldn't seem to speak, just nodded along with what I was saying,

"Can I trust you?" He nodded, and even though there was a chance I couldn't even hear him over the pounding of my heart, I asked again.

"Yes." He spit out. Poor Hydro. Ashamed, I pulled him into a hug, feeling his bones and I cling to him. None of this was fair.

"Good. good. I am so proud of you." my tears mix with his. Then he pulls away.

He was too young. Too everything. Too hungry, too young to act so old, too young to have multiple chances to die. But he wasn't going to die. Not this year.

I was.

I broke down to each of my parents. I cried right alongside Twila. Then my family left and Shock Harrison came in. he suited his name, hair sticking up in every direction, clothes looking slightly singed from who knows what. I can't remember the last time we had hugged each other, but he swooped in with hardly any thought to it. Much taller than me, my head rested on his shoulder. I held him there, and he held me. Fingers ran over my hair.

"Ana… Ana it's okay. You'll be okay." If I could believe it. If only he could.

"It's not okay. It's not… I'm sorry, Shock." he froze, body a statue holding mine,

"Don't say that. You have nothing to be sorry for," he pulled back and I could see his eyes, which were the only things that hadn't been subdues to the madness as the rest of him, "It's not your fault."

We stayed connect like that until the someone knocked on the door, until he had to leave one last time. At least some people would miss me. Shock. Twila. Hydro. My parents. Why did this world have to be so cruel?

John Burr:

The first time I had ever touched a knife, I was ten. Bored and home alone, my mother's knife meant for use on food was sitting there on the table. I didn't use it on food. But let's just say that a tree closer to the fence may or may not have been a little cut up. The second time was not two days later. That was when I first dropped said knife, and it sliced a deep cut through my hand. My first scar. My first knife.

I had many scars like it by now.

But I had also gotten better. In fact, the morning before the reaping, I had no qualms about holding the knife up near my head, uncomfortably close to my head. With the purpose of cutting my hair, it had been getting longer recently, falling into my eyes and tickling my ears. When I was done, the black tendrils of shed hair had all settled on the ground around me. I had a scar running the back of my ear because of doing this. But my mother's hand shook to much in her aging years, and my sister had never even held a knife, so I did it myself. It was the same knife that I used to cut my hair that ended up in a tree, point sunk in deep. Oddly enough, the first tree I had ever used as a target. Little did I know it was going to be the last too. A come full circle moment with the tree and I. If only I had used the same knife.

My partner, Solana Ennis, would probably die in the bloodbath. That scared face lighting up that sky. As I smiled, the small girl cried. Her hand was tiny, almost disappearing in my grip when I shook her hand. Then I was ushered away. Led to a large furnished room. I was told to wait for my visitors. Only my family came. By family, I mean my younger sister and mother. No one else. It's not like I had any friends after Wyatt.

…

My familial goodbyes were so seemingly unmemorable, I hardly remembered anything other than my sisters high pitched voice and my mother's tired eyes. Sitting in my personal room on the train that would take me away to compete in these games, I found peace. Peace with these stupid games, the ones that took away my friend, that took away countless kids just like me every single year. They might deserve the hate I give them, but also the admiration. Well, at least the understanding. A clever way of driving the loses into us. Pounding them into our memories. They scream, holding the Capitols victory over the districts heads.

"Real clever."

A knock came at the door. A Capitol accent heavy in the voice that came through the smooth door,

"Come to the dining room, please." The click of the heels storming away, too happy to carry someone so ready to watch me kill someone. Pulling myself up, I walk out just in time to see the ostentatious pink wig disappear around the corner. I didn't hurry to catch up, just followed from a distance. When I arrived in the actual dining room, I had to admit the spread was impressive. The Ennis girl was already eating from her own plate, clearly in her own sort of heaven. She would probably get sick. Too much rich food on her plate. I wouldn't make the same mistake.

After collecting my plate, being careful not to grab too many whole foods that I wasn't used to, I sat down. There was a prim-and-properness to the escort, how she wore gloves, ate carefully with a knife and fork. The disdain in her expression as she looked over the two kids from an outer district. As I began to eat, starting with a roll, a clatter came from the door. Everyone turned to see a very recognizable face. Calypso Mounte.

Her perfect capitol altered skin, nose perfectly unbroken (another capitol surgery), and then her eyes. Those were the only thing the capitol didn't touch. Lively blue eyes that wouldn't let on just how much death they had seen. She had won 7 years ago. In her late 20s, the woman didn't show how much hell she had been through. But then she grabbed a certain drink from the cart, one that smelled strongly of acetone. I shook my head as she took a large sip, sitting down across from me. Her eyes sparkled with the sour liquid. My mother had given me some once, but I didn't like it all that much.

"So," she spoke, "do you two feel so lucky? You're tributes now." I picked up on her sarcasm instantly, it needed some work but it wasn't all bad.

"oh, so lucky," I took a sip of my own beverage, not a drop of alcohol in it. Solana said nothing, looking at her plate as she ate everything in sight. My stomach demanded I followed suit, but I ate slowly, not wanting all of it to come up later.

Calypso's smiled into her cup, taking another swig of the amber liquid. She tilted her head, looking over at the girl beside me,

"And what about you?" Solana looked up and met her eyes, "Don't you feel lucky?" she shook her head minutely in response, not saying anything.

"I'm sorry, I- I don't." it was then that we all seemed to notice her puffy eyes and blotchy face. The tears that had been shed ;leaving their mark. Pity washed over me for split second, and then it was gone. My hand twitches unintentionally, missing the feel of my knife. I would find another in that arena soon enough. But I didn't miss the smell that lingered on my fingers after a session. Metal. Too much like blood.

"So," the prim escort woman smiled as she ate a small bite of her own meal, "How are you two feeling?" like she hadn't asked it already. I wanted to call her an idiot, but instead I kept a pleasant smile on my face, a mockery of her own in and of itself.

"I'm feeling just great," I tell her, then point to Solana, "and I'm sure _Ana _is too." she flashed me a grateful half smile before turning back to her food. She must be hungry.

"Oh, that's just wonderful. And your accommodations?" it was hard not to imitate her stupid Capitol accent,

"Just _wonderful,_" what can I say? The opportunity was too good to pass up. She handed it right to me.

"Great, great." she looked as though she wanted to add something, but ended up just taking another bite.

…

Dinner was really nothing all that special, Calypso gave some useless advice and then it was over. The food was incredible, yes, but everything else was subpar at best. So now I was back in my room. After taking a shower, and watching the grey sky fade to black, I made myself comfortable in the silky sheets. Everything was so lush, so furnished. It was sick in a way. Dress up the guinea pigs, play them up as celebrities, right before tossing them into a cage to fight one another. Sick, but also quite ingenious. If only it wasn't my fate lumped in with all the others.

By the time I was fell asleep, I could barely feel the swaying of the train underneath me. What I could feel was the angelic sensicality around the entire train. Hell, around the Capitol. But all the same, I slept.

Solana Ennis:

The morning was oddly similar to last night. Except for the fact that it began in the same place that last night ended. A pair of black leggings and a grey shirt made of a soft fabric. It felt odd on my body. Too nice. Too clean. Too unlike the crude materials we had available back home. My stomach was aching from the meal last night, it was rejecting the rich foods I had eaten last night. Not that I'd change my eating habits in any way this morning. A few moments later I

a knock comes at the door,

"Come on dear," the voice was muffled but no less perky through the door, "it's a big, big day." her inflection was too perky for the hour of the morning.

So after a moment in the bathroom, giving myself a chance to see if I really do look as terrible as I feel (which I do), I walked out into the hallway, seeing John Burr and his long strides taking him around the corner. I hurried after, my steps even with his. We sat down at the same time, finding our seats just as our mentor can walking in, distinctly hung over. Bloodshot eyes surveyed us, lazy steps sending her different directions.

"So. John and…" I realized she had forgotten my name, which seems a little odd considering I was about to be sent into an arena, and that's the sort of thing that's pretty memorable. All the same I supplied it,

"Ana." because it was only ever my mom that called me Solana.

"Ana," she parroted, "you two are put under the unfortunate circumstances that few are able to survive. You just get used to the idea that both of you are likely going home in a box." she's not a happy drunk is she? I shook my head, a sudden cough racking my body, chair digging into my back. As soon as it was over, I took a sip of water from the already filled glass, waiting for the escort to come back from wherever she was now. When she did, she brought an unfortunate amount of positivity to the room. If only it was something good she was happy about. Then she laid out the plans for the day, along with the rest of the week. The week before I die.

"So, tonight is the opening ceremony, and I hope both of you will be very pleased with your stylists. I imagine your costumes will be just incredible." my family will watch that ceremony, see me dressed up in some ridiculous costume. A terrible day indeed.

**So I'm not very proud of this one, so sorry you had to sit through it. next chapter will be from district 2. **


	8. Chapter 8 (D2)

**Still available: District 9 Male UPDATE: NO it's not (thank you for **Merpmeow** submitting ****Blaze) **

**Chapter 8: Illiteracy and Nerve **

_District 2 reapings and first dinner on the train_

Jasper Knopp:

"Jasper!" I turned at my name, seeing Alyssa running up behind us. That is being Peter and I. We stopped, letting her catch up. Peter took a long step away from me, giving Alyssa room to get between us. I wouldn't have thought anything of it, except for the odd looks he had been giving me all morning. What was he doing?

"Well hey there handsome," I just gave her a smile, as she laced her arm through mine. Our relationship was nothing more than platonic, but she still liked to flirt. Something I've come to appreciate it from time to time.

"How you feeling? About to volunteer and all." Peter made a disgruntled noise as we kept going. Maybe it was because of his broken nose, but it was more likely that he was still upset I had been chosen over him.

"Great."

I was taking more than Peter, something I didn't know was possible. She talked to me for a little while. I responded briefly and softly. Then we got to the square. Lyssa has to go to her own section. The normal ceremony took place, the girl tribute was reaped, then Amber Steele volunteered and took the stage. It was clear she had wanted nothing to do with me, she hadn't even tried to talk to me after the announcement yesterday. It's not like I did anything, but still. Then it came. She drew the boys name.

"Haven Woodwork." A boy with red hair and pale skin stepped up onto the stage. I waited for the question, to raise my hand.

"Any volunteers?"

"I-" the words weren't mine. They were Peters. I slammed an open palm into his already broken nose, raising my own hand.

"I volunteer!" They came out more as a jumble than clear words. I could Peters eyes shooting daggers into my back as I walked up onto the stage. The escort looked confused and upset but shook it off. Not entirely though. She asked my name,

"Jasper Knopp," rang from my lips. I saw Peters nose bleeding I hadn't meant to hit him that hard. But what on earth was he thinking? When I looked at the girl, I saw a tapestry of scars crisscrossing her face. They were matched by the thin white lines running all over her hands.

After shaking her hand and exiting the stage, they led us each to a room to say goodbye to our families and friends.

Nathalie came in with my parents. She wasn't picked last year, escaped the reaping an volunteering. She had more affection in her farewell than either of my parents.

Then Alyssa came in. Her smile was wider than her face. But there was a nervousness in her eyes as they flit behind her o the open doorway. I took two long strides to her, and suddenly we were hugging. It was over her shoulder that I saw the next person to enter the room. Peter. Blood running down into his mouth, crazy rage in his eyes. It sick and grotesque. What was happening? This was my friend. He had wanted to be chosen but… was he really resorting to this?

I let go of Alyssa and she crept to the corner to watch whatever scene would unfold,

"What the hell was that?" He spat the words, dried blood cracking around his mouth. Gesturing to him and his crazy stricken eyes I had to ask the same thing, only a little less crudely,

"Why did you do that, Peter? I was chosen. Me. Not you." His sneer flakes off even more blood.

"It should have been me. You don't have what it takes. I should've gone in. Maybe even gotten the chance to pay Steele back for my broken nose." I couldn't take him seriously. Just couldn't. I didn't exactly laugh, but I wanted to. Something about his eyes.

When he came swinging at me it wasn't nearly as funny. He always had a good punch, but I was nearly always faster than his fist. I dodged it with barely a thought, then grabbed the next fist coming at my gut. Twisting his arm I 'til he screamed, I pushed him away.

"Leave." It wasn't a request. It was a demand. Peter brushed off the failed attack, and looked as though he was about to come back for round two. Then he thought better of it. At least some part of him was marginally intelligent.

"Fine." I expected him to turn back around, to charge at me, do anything other than walk out that door and keep going. Yet again, he exceeds expectation. Just keeps walking. What had happened to us? Can jealousy really do this much to him? To me?

A sigh came from the corner of the room, and up until that point I totally forgot that Lyssa was there. She had seen all of that.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head, coming closer again and taking my hands, "I shouldn't have let him come. What was I thinking? What was he thinking I-" she cut herself off, realizing she was rambling on again. I gave her a smile,

"Hey. it's fine. He's just angry. He'll get over it." or more likely he'll hold onto that grudge tight and crave for my death on that screen. Just like how he would watch for Amber Steele's death, for something as small as breaking his nose. He was sick and twisted like that, it was the one thing I hated about him. His vindictive pleasure in others pain. I shook my head, doing my best to forget about him. If only it was that easy.

If only we hadn't been friends, then I could forget about the crazy and his pleasure in pain. His need for the games, the lust for sadistic death. Maybe if I had met him later, I would have seen through it, but you can't see that in small children, not often at least. Especially not with him.

If only.

Amber Steele:

"Rusty," my mother's voice came through the room, making my head spin away from Gov to see her sitting in the corner. I had gotten my hair from her, a deep rust colour, thus my beloved nickname. She stood, beginning to walk towards me. I met her halfway, in the middle of the large room. She wasn't sad, I could see that. She knew I would be going into these games the minute I had been able to take my father in a fight. Instead, I saw a bit of praise there. Odd. she laced her fingers in mine. Her chin was tilted slightly, looking up at me. I wasn't that much taller, but I was definitely taller. A trait I had inherited from my dad it seemed.

"Yes?" her smile was slight, bright blue eyes shining. A trait I had actually picked up on.

"I'll miss you." her eyes left my mine and travelled up somewhere along my many scars, a gift from training.

"I'll miss you too," I expected her to pick a fight, to put up her guard once more. We were alike in that way, I suppose. Maybe that's way we argue so much. But instead, she just kept a smile on her face, a different kind of armour. And I would miss her. Miss Gov, the little tyke, and Eleri, the polar opposite of everything I am, and Madigan, the distant, Jessi, and my father, and…

I already miss Kaz.

Gov was the smallest in the group. So when he pulled me away from Mom, it was more I led myself away and he was merely attached. At 9 years old, he acted far older than he actually was. Small arms wrapped around me. This was the one thing I wasn't expecting. Never been all that close, the two of us. But it was still nice.

Out of the living, I find myself falling into a certain family dynamic. I see how Madigan and Eleri gravitate to one another and to my mother, how Gov is drawn to my father in his own way, and then there's me and Jessi. I was saddest when I had to say goodbye to him. Jessi actually was my height, he had started growing about a year ago and just never stopped. Eventually he would be taller than me. It were the little things that I found in both of us. The bonding experience of teaching him to throw a good punch, to defend himself. I just hope he won't have to go through this too. No doubt Eleri or Madigan, or even little Gov would find themselves in this situation. So I worry. I worry about much he's like me, except he doesn't carry the same scars.

There was a time I was like El and Madi. When I hated anything my father had to teach me. It was the side of district 2 never seen in the screen. The amount of people who want no part in the games. So it's not like I don't understand them, I just can no longer relate to them. So I wasn't surprised when I didn't feel all that much as each threw their arms around me.

There was another time, many times actually, when I would see each of them staring at the elegant dresses and costumes the capitol threw onto the tributes each year. Especially the past few years. They liked the stylist, and were most definitely looking forward to seeing whatever atrocity I was thrown into. They each cried. That was another big difference between the three of us. I just don't cry.

"They'll make you look beautiful," El sighed dreamily. Just no dresses. Please nothing flouncy. Pretty much anything my sisters would deem worthy should stay far away from me and my body.

Then came my father. I got most of my looks from him, along with my demeanor. And my behavior. He was never that affectionate, so when he pulled me into a hug, it was surprising. When he tried to flip me over his shoulder it wasn't. Let's just say he ended up on the floor, my hand at his throat. His fingers tapped the floor in two articulated taps, and I released him.

"Good job, Rusty." It was the most complimentary he had ever been. Even when I told him I was selected to volunteer, he just told me my punch needed some work. Not that I usually threw punches. They were too easy to get wrong. A flat palm with curled fingers did the job much better. My father called it a panther paw, much easier to break a nose with. A boy in my year had a broken nose to prove it. He deserved it. I might not have wanted to break it, but it was a lesson well taught. He had insulted me.

It was only moments after my family left that I was ushered out too. On the train platform, I saw my partner, the larger boy that had had a small fight with the boy with the said broken nose before volunteering. He hadn't said a word, and it led me to wonder whether or not he could even speak. Sure, he had volunteered, given his name, but nothing beyond that. Avox.

In a matter of seconds we were on the Capitol train, then pulling away from the District. He was silent beside me, a hulking figure looming a good 4 inches over me. He didn't speak as I turned away from the scene outside. Dark hair falling over his eyes, he looked down at me. I didn't like feeling short.

"Hey there, partner." he just gave me a nod, and I automatically knew his type. I laughed, sliding past him and finding a comfortable seat, very ready for this conversation,

"Uh- hello. Can you speak?" he didn't answer again, good god he was annoying,

"What? Are you illiterate? Can you speak? Or maybe you're an avox?" the questions hung in the air for a moment, before he suddenly burst out laughing, his fingers came up to push the hair away, giving me a good look at his smile wide. Was it fake or real? Definitely fake.

He still didn't talk, and the brief laughter soon died, and he disappeared from the room. I couldn't tell if he truly found it funny or not.

Jasper Knopp:

Amber Steele wasn't all that funny. Maybe she wasn't trying to be, or maybe she wasn't. Either way, I wasn't amused. My hand had some of Peter's blood dried onto it. First order of business, get rid of it, force it down the drain and away. I don't need to think about that right now, maybe I wouldn't think about it again ever.

Running my hand under the faucet of spewing water, I watched the clear water turn pink under my hands, disappearing down the drain. It was a nice colour. Shaking my head, I dried my hands. I would need to keep my distance from her. She had hardly blinked when she had broken Peter's nose. I remember watching him give her crap about losing a match. So she walked over calmly, promptly punching him square in the nose. And he would never get the chance to pay her back. That mishap was a two on one fight with two of the best kids in the year. She had disarmed one while the other one hit away each of her swords. Since Amber Steele wasn't one for following rules, I remember seeing her flipping the boy over her shoulder, putting him in a choke hold. Then the broken nose. Peter had deserved it, but that didn't make it any better.

Amber Steele:

I settled into one of the many chairs in the main room. Watched the changing scenery outside the window in silence, waiting for one of the many mentors from the academy to come and retell multiple different bits of information and storied from their games and how to win and a million different things that have been beaten into my core. It's those pieces of information that float around my head. Everything my father taught me about combat, and everything the two of us taught Jessi.

In a fight hit first and hit hard

Elbows and knees can inflict the most damage

Go for the jaw

Use your opponent's weight against them

Anything can be used as a weapon…

...especially surprise

Like how my own surprise was used against me all those years ago, earning my first and worst scar.

…

Though the meal itself was spectacular, it wasn't really about the food. It was about the planning, the company. The mentor. His experience. We would learn about how Diem Nicholson won his games. The unabridged version we hadn't already learned about. To be fair, the abridged version was nearly non-existent. Why did we need to have him as a mentor, any of the countless others that lived in victor's village. The only distant one was the one we get. We knew a few things before- He had 10 kills within his game. His signature weapon was a selection of knives he had picked off the cornucopia. He had stayed far away from the career pack.

But if I know anything, it's that nothing is as it seems. So this is the story he spun about his games, the not so glamorous side of the games- No one within his games trusted him (and they were all completely right to). He hadn't left the pack, he had been ostracized. Two of his kills were accidents. He hadn't volunteered.

"Nothing is as it seems. Ever."

"So… I hope I gave you two some bit of hope." how had this man ever won anything, let alone the hunger games?

Clearing my throat, I looked over at Jasper, who had been silent the duration of the meal,

"So, Jasper. Why'd you punch that kid in the face?" sure, we both knew why, Jasper was supposed to volunteer, but I wanted to hear him say it, for him to actually speak. I rolled my eyes when again I was met with only silence. Definitely illiterate, no doubt about it.

"I don't want to talk about it," I scoffed, thinking back to seeing the boy around the academy, and why I felt no guilt whatsoever about breaking his nose,

"Sure you do. Wasn't he your friend?" he took another large bite,

"Was."

"Well you did punch him in the face," he didn't like me much, did he?

"You broke his nose." okay, the spite in that sentence proves it.

I shrugged,

"He deserved it." it also might have been why he wasn't chosen, why Jasper sat here instead of him. Peter Locke. He had to be at the top of his game, too bad I changed his rules. All the better, I had a weaker opponent, an easy kill. Well, easy isn't the right word, but I'm not all that worried about Jasper.

**I'm sorry if I made Jasper seem incompetent or anything like that, he's definitely a worthy competitor, Rusty just thinks of everyone like that. This chapter is a little shorter than the usual ones, but it's still a whole chapter. I'd like to thank everyone *again* that has submitted characters. just one more and I'll have the entire selection (Oh, wrong fandom). The next chapter should be out in a day or two. maybe sooner if I'm lucky. **


	9. Chapter 9 (D10)

**All characters have been submitted?! I never thought I would get to his, but here we are. I'll put the entire list down at the bottom**

**Chapter 9 **

_Reapings and first meeting with the mentor_

Dawn Night:

I watched the man's hand dip deep into the bowl. I had a feeling that this years it would be me. I can't say why, maybe I feel it every year and just haven't noticed it, or maybe it's because some sort of sixth sense knows I'm about to be reaped.

"And the female tribute is…" my breath hitches, and Sue notices. I can feel her tending beside me.

"It's okay." She whispers

"Sue Ritz!" It took a second to realize it wasn't my name. It wasn't, but who it belonged to... I grabbed Sue's hand, holding it tight. Her eyes went to mine, wide and scared. They couldn't do this to her, to me.

"Don't let go," I beg, "Don't let go." but she was already slipping away. A pathway through the sea of bodies separated, giving her a clear walk through. They couldn't do this to me. Her hand slipped away from mine, her head shaking slightly. This couldn't be real. This was just a dream She was more than a friend, I couldn't watch her die. So when the escort, a tired man with electric blue hair, had to go through the motions of asking for a volunteer. I wasn't thinking, and it was only my hand going up, my lips forming the words.

"I volunteer!"

It was more of a voice cracking shriek, the wrong impression for the seeming endless cameras looping the square. But I couldn't care. I just needed her to get off that stage, stay far away from here. Soon as I was up there, I came to Sue's side. My hands coming for hers quickly, pulling her to the edge of the stage,

"Go," I whisper, though I might have been screaming for the buzzing in my ears, "Get out of here." she did, but not before uttering a few words, "You are such an idiot, Dawn." then she disappeared. A moment of relief, then I had to turn around ,pretend the world wasn't falling apart. Walk up to the man's side and give him a smile. Then he sees my face, really sees it. More importantly, the certain set of features that's gotten me mocked for years.

"What's your name, volunteer?" he was too shocked by my heterochromic eyes to put any bit of Capital luster into his voice.

"Dawn Night."

He didn't even try at any type of small talk,

"How old are you?" I shrugged, my fingers moving wildly at my sides. I put them behind me as I answered, "14."

_I'm 14. I'm an idiot. I'm going to die. _But it's better than Sue.

"Well then," the Capitol accent got a little stronger, "shall we find your partner?" I nodded, numb all over. His nails were shorter than the talons I had seen on the old escort, before she was upgraded to district 4, but they still stretched out long, coloured a vibrant red. Like his fingers were dipped in blood. It didn't stain the many slips of paper in the boys bowl, instead, he seemed to just cut right through them. Pick out one name, one of countless, to be my partner. The name drawn then made my heart stop. Jovanni Gold.

"Oh, Crap," I muttered under my breath as I watched him and his stupid red sweater and grey too loose pants. Surely someone told him to wear something different, but clearly he didn't care. _Because he only cares about making my life miserable. _

His hand was cold in mine, funny, mine seemed to be sweating. Why did it have to be him? This was bad enough as it is. The downturn of his mouth and crease between his brows, along with the all around shocked expression crossing his face, led me to believe this wasn't exactly ideal. He didn't even seem too happy about going in with me. Getting a chance to kill the kid with two different eyes, the one he had made a mockery of time and time again. Then we both made our way into the Justice building, to the pretty rooms, to the last places we would ever see either of our friends and family. It was too pretty a place to be responsible for all the blood and tears spilled because of it.

I saw his dark hair and matching skin disappear into his own room. I walk into my own. Maybe a minute later, Amber and my parents come walking in. she's older than I am, almost 18. She has one more year of Reapings left, and it's always her name with he tesserae attached. She rushed her way to me, arms wrapping around me. She's my height, almost exactly.

"Why, Dawn?" Her voice cracked. She pulled back, eyes gleaming with tears.

"I had to, she's my friend." _I wanted to be more than friends, _but here we are now. Better me than her. That didn't seem like a good enough answer, since her jarring sobs shook my body almost as worse as hers.

"But you can win, can't you?"

"Maybe." I coax. And it's true, maybe there is a chance that I'll come back. 1 out of 24? I could turn that into 1 out of 1. It happened every year didn't it?

"You're fast," she continued, through her blubbering and tears, "strong. Remember that time you almost broke that kids arm?" I looked down. That kid was one of Jovanni's friends. His stupid lacky had been partaking in their their usual pass time, making my life miserable. Really, it wasn't my fault that I had two different coloured eyes, yet they treated it like it was. Finally I had had it, I pushed him away. Right into a wall. It was in a sling for a week. Oops.

"Yeah, yeah I do." That was one of the few good memories associated with Jovanni Gold, especially watching him try to help his friend up, who was sure he had been dying.

"You'll do fine." Her voice was getting thicker, and I wanted to shake this out of her. I don't want to see her crying, because then I'll start crying. I can't start crying.

"One can hope."

My parents were more reserved as they hugged me and said goodbye. My father was more angry than anything else. He spoke of how this wasn't fair, that I was 14. But most of all I think he was angry st me. I did volunteer after all. I could've been safe for another year, but it's not like we aren't destitute already. My name had been more and more likely to be drawn as the years went on, and it was only a matter of to enforce it would get me. So I do what any completely (un)rational human being would do and threw myself into the darkness before it asked for me. My mother didn't like that bit of sarcasm much. Or at all.

"Don't do that. Don't even joke about that?" She reprimanded. I had to admire her strong mask in the face of losing one of her children. She had always been such a strong woman, I wish I could be half the woman she is.

Then came Sue. She was angry at first, storming in, calling me an idiot for volunteering. I had already done it a million times, but it was nice to hear it from her too.

"I could have handled it," she was lying, we both saw it. We were so close. If only I could lean in, cl as my eyes and force our lips to meet. But that would be too cruel for both of us.

"Maybe, but I couldn't have. I couldn't have sat here and watched you kill or be killed," her voice was low, and it was as though she was about to cry, something she never did. Not even when she got that collection of bruises on her face three years ago. She had always been tough, but I couldn't hear Sue, my Sue, in the voice that came to me next,

"And you think I can?" You'll fair much better than I could've. Maybe it was unfair of me to put that on her, but I guess I'm selfish that way. Except that I'm going to die. Except that it was a selfless act to anyone else, but not to Sue. And maybe not even to me.

I've never heard _idiot _used as a term of endearment before, but I could hear it in the careful tone as she called out the stupidity within the decision to raise my hand. After one last hug she walked to the door, and her golden hair flipped over her shoulder. Just as she was about to walk out the door, leave for the last time, she turned back for one last second,

"Thank you. I'll miss you." I wanted to respond; say something, but the door was already closing. A single tear slipped down my cheek, but I wiped it away before it dropped to my chin. I couldn't let anyone outside see I had even thought of crying. _Be strong, Dawn. for Sue. _

Looking at Jovanni made me want to gag, something quite common for me. Gag, but also almost laugh. Because I saw it in his eyes, in his flushed cheeks and red nose. The kid had been crying. I had to really look to see it, but he definitely had been. Stepping onto the train, I hurried away from him. The escort tried to call me back but I didn't stop. But to my dismay, I heard footsteps behind me. They were hard, loud.

"Hey, Dawn." not Jovanni. I just need him to leave me alone.

"What?" I spat, quickening my pace, not sure where I was going but just knowing that I needed to go.

"Dawn. I- I'm sorry." I stopped, turning around to face him. Him and his stupid loose fitting clothes,

"Nice try, but I just don't believe you." he sighed, pulling fingers through his hair,

"I am, Crow." Two years ago a crow had fallen from the sky right in the middle of the school day. A kid in Jovanni's group of friends had found it, seen it's eyes, said that they matched mine, thus Crow. that was the one thing I truly hated. Comparing me to an animal.

"Just leave me alone, Jovanni." Does he even realize that we're going into the games? He doesn't need to try and even the score right before murdering me. I had the feeling I would be at the top of his kill list. I turned again to the sound of his disapproval. This time he didn't follow.

Jovanni Gold:

My family had already left, and by family I mean mom. But she seemed to bring my sisters presence. She might be dead, but never forgotten, not by either of us.

"I'm sorry." she cried. I was surprisingly not following her tears. I was stone, couldn't let it crumble. The group of people I couldn't really call my friends but surely called me there's coming in next. Cydric walked in first, Aliene clinging to his arm. Then came Jason and Niel and the entire group from back home. Why had I ever wanted to friends with any of them. The farewells were so uncomfortable it got to the point I wished that they hadn't come to see me off.

"So," one said finally, "You're going in with Crow are you?" I shrugged, trying to stop myself from saying something along the lines of _don't talk about Dawn that way. _

"Guess I am."

"You better win for us, man." Cydric slapped my shoulder, right before walking out the door one last time. I shook it off, but I was finally alone.

As soon as I was given the chance, as soon as I was alone, I broke down. Tears flowing readily down my face. I was never one to cry, the only other time I can remember it is when Lieann didn't come home that day. Why did it have to be Dawn? Why was she so brave and so stupid and- a knock came at the door, a gruff voice surely belonging to a peacekeeper ordering me out and onto the train station. I wiped the tears away quickly, blinking the next onslaught away. I walked out with my head high, shoulders back and back straight. Just breath. _And maybe you can apologize to Dawn. make it up to her._

I hope they couldn't see I had been crying. That they being the cameras watching dawn and I walk into the train. It wasn't my friends that made me upset. They were never really my friends, it wasn't my family either. No. It was seeing Dawn up in that stage. Knowing that only one of us would come out alive. I had nothing against her, but the feelings aren't reciprocated. She hated me, and what's worse is that I deserve it. Her eyes shot daggers at the ground, and as soon as the train door closed behind us she practically sprinted to the first hallway she could see. For some reason I followed. Not some reason. It's a very specific reason,

"Hey, Dawn," I called to her softly, she just kept walking,

"What?" no matter how much I deserved it, her tone was painful,

"Dawn, I'm sorry." her laugh was dry, a completely unfunny sound,

"Really? Somehow I don't believe that."

"I am, Crow." I realized right away I had said the wrong thing. Crap. It had just slipped out. That name. She spun around, I stopped just short of crashing into her.

"Just leave me alone, Jovanni." her multi-coloured eyes had never been so striking. It was only when they were filled with rage that they danced like that. When she turned this time I didn't follow. I let her walk away from me, her boots pounding the floor harder and harder. She hadn't believed I was being sincere, but I truly had been. She was brave. Utterly stupid, but brave. She volunteered herself for a friend when no one else would have even thought about it, not even Mara, Sue Ritz's older sister standing in the crowd moments ago, had thought to raise her hand. She was too good for a fate like she would find in the hunger games, and I would do everything in my power to stop her life from being taken. The only question was how.

"Ugh, where did that girl go?" the Capital escort, a younger man named Darius Lian, was acting all frizzled.

"Said she needed to lie down. Wasn't feeling too good," I lied. The man rolled his eyes, then muttered something quietly to himself before storming off to the next car. I was finally given the chance to take in the lush surroundings. Silver walls arching around us, matching the bullet shape of the trains outside perfectly. Blue sofas lining the walls, a wide walkway with a matching blue carpet. I felt shabby in my ill fitting clothes and surely blotchy face. I could barely feel the acceleration of the train, but I saw it out the window. The terrain speeding past us, a view seen for seconds before disappearing behind plated steel. It was pretty, even if the sky was bleak and grey. Dawn would be much prettier, and my meant both Dawn Night and _dawn _tomorrow morning. It was always the prettiest time of day. Pinks, purples, reds the entire spectrum painting the sky in beautiful ways. Dawn was so much like actual actual dawn, or maybe I just associated the two together.

Loud footsteps erupted suddenly from the room that Darius had just went through. A man suddenly walked out. He was tall, dark skinned. Tight muscles roping his body, attractive features making up his face. He came to sit on the sofa facing me. I recognized him.

"Graeson Loreal." one of the few victors of district 10. He gave me a nod, proving me right.

"And you're… Jovanni Gold." it my turn to nod,

"Tell me about you."

"Me?" he rolled his eyes, leaning into his knees with his elbows,

"Yes you. What are you good at? Mentally? Physically?" I shrugged, thinking of the things I could call my talents.

"I'm good in a fight," I say finally, "friendly enough, I guess. Lots of friends back in 10." he leaned in closer, if that was even possible,

"So you can fight, and make friends?" the disdain in his voice made me falter,

"Yes?" he clapped his hands together,

"Great." I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"Really?"

"Of course not. Well," he tried again, "partially. I don't want you making allies. They're either going to stab you in the back or you'll stab them. It might be 50/50, but if it's the wrong 50 you're dead. Hand-to-hand combat is something we can work with, but I don't think you'll have much of a chance against any career. Try finding a weapon of some sort." he spoke a mile a minute, words hardly making sense to me.

"Okay." but he was all business,

"Get Dawn Night. I have something to discuss with the two of you."

Getting Dawn was the last thing I wanted to do. Not for my sake but for hers, I wanted nothing more than for her to forgive me, but I knew she never could. But I knocked on the only closed door in the wing anyways. Surely it was Dawns. When it opened and I was faced with those contrasting eyes glared at me.

"What do you want?" Sighing, I looked away from those mind melting eyes,

"Our mentor wants to speak to the both of us." She looked down,

"Tell them I want to be trained alone." She wanted me to tell Grayson Loreal that I couldn't get her out of her room? Unbelievable. That guy was scary.

"I-" she slammed the door in my face,

"Fine." Well then, that was successful.

"She said what?" Loreal wasn't taking too much of a liking to her it seemed. His voice was steely and almost frightening. Almost. Except that wasn't the right word. More like it brought death in its wake. All the same it was clear just how easily he had won us games. He might have just looked at them all with that glare and they all died on the spot.

"She wants to train alone." He rolled his eyes.

"Of course she does," then a smile flickered over his face, "she's smart." The smartest. Huh. Maybe he did like her, after all. Jealousy racked my body only to disappear a moment later. That's good, I told myself, you want Dawn to win, and this guy can help her.

We talked for a little while. He was all business, and it was clear how much he wanted Dawn or I to win. I wanted Dawn to win. He gave me some advice with weapons -"go for the head, it's nearly always a fatal shot. If you're feeling shaky the abdomen is a larger target."- where to find drinkable water -"they'll set it up in a certain way so that water resources will be bloodbaths in their own rights,"- and how to best win- "avoid any tribute. Just stay out of their ways". He had won his games that way. The first half was spent running from the other tributes. After that he got his hands on a weapon, a large scythe, and that was all he had needed. He was interrupted in the middle of explaining how lighting a fire was a stupid mistake,

"And stupidity is dangerous", when Darious walked in, hands placed behind his back.

"It's time for dinner. Come on then, you can keep taking on the way there," he spun on his sparkling shoes that were more aesthetic than practical. We each got up, following the man into the other room. Dawn already sat there, her plate piled with all sorts of luxurious food. She went back to focusing on her food, and I went on the long line of trays lining the back wall. The spread made my mouth water.

Plate full, I made my way to the table, but Loreal was already talking strategy,

"I've already watched all the Reapings. Dawn, you have an advantage. A volunteer for an outer district is almost unheard of. And those eyes… make you stand out. Just hope people like you enough." A compliment followed by an insult,

I liked the way his mind works, "There's another outlying volunteer this year too, and two reaped careers. I swear these games are going to hell." my eyes went to Dawn, and her own eyes met mine,

"The games already hell," I whisper. She does nothing but look away again.

* * *

**Did I do okay? I really like Dawn and Jovanni and I just hope I did them justice. Next chapter will be district 12.**

**But on another note, here's the entire list!**

**District 1**

Male: **Reign King- **Professor R.J Lupin1

Female:** Celestyn Scole**\- Professor R.J Lupin1

**District 2**

Male:** Jasper Knopp**\- OfEmbersandWolvesFemale: **Amber Steele- **a friend of mine asked to participate

**District 3**

Male: **Acer Chriss**\- Mine

Female: **Athena Lighte**\- Mine

**District 4**

Male: **Mars Marker- **Professor R.J Lupin1Female: **Chrysanthe Wofle**\- Annabeth Pie

**District 5**

Male: **Drake Ru**\- AlexFalTon

Female: **Lilith Sparks- **That one ace popsicle stick

**District 6**

Male: **John Burr- **nicholas h

Female: **Solana "Ana" Ennis- **Professor R.J Lupin1

**District 7**

Male: **Jaeger Primrose**\- Professor R.J Lupin1

Female: **Sequoia Carsyn**\- Professor R.J Lupin1

**District 8**

Male: **Jéan Hughes**S.H. Reke

Female: **Harlene Cross- **friend again

**District 9**

Male: **Blaze Morrison**Merpmeow

Female: **Mica Lee**\- nozavid

**District 10**

Male: **Jovanni Gold - **Merpmeow

Female: **Dawn Night- **Merpmeow

**District 11**

Male: **Winstead Cress Dale**\- curiousclove

Female: **Abilene Dew Ackerman** curiousclove

**District 12**

Male: **Ash Di Angelo Minsto**\- Annabeth Pie

Female: **Avis Byrd- **Annabeth Pie

**So a huge thank you to everyone. I started writing expecting it to crash and burn, but at least 10 people liked it, trusted me enough to write their characters. It will be so hard to kill them all. but there can only be one Victor. May the odds be ever in **_**all** _**of our favor. **


	10. Chapter 10 (D12)

**3 chapters 3 days in a row. Guess being on Easter vacation has given me lots of time. Enjoy chapter 10**

**Chapter 10**

_reapings and goodbyes_

Avis Byrd:

The forest floor beneath me is spongy, good to run on. Which was exactly what I was doing right now. Heavy breathing could be heard behind me, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I vested off to the left, to a large collection of spiny trees. I could lose her through those. Keep going Avis.

My hands scratch bark off of the next tree I pass, spinning around it and ending up behind my tracker. I see her blonde hair in a tangle around her head. I turn back just in time to see a tree right in front of me. I'm much faster climbing than running.

So I climb. I'm small, so I'm half up the tree before she even gets to the bottom. But she's just as fast as I am. So I turn to the next tree, beside me. I prepare to jump, the steady branch unwavering beneath my feet. And jump. The branch nearly cracks under my weight, and I grab the large trunk for support. The it really does crack.

I hit the ground in a jarring lose of breath. A hear a swift landing beside me, and see Aveline standing over me,

"I… win." I laughed, nodding.

"Yes you do. Good job." She helped me up, and U was struck by those bright blue eyes for the hundredth one. Maybe if she hadn't been abandoned by her family years ago she would be beautiful. Well fed. She was still gorgeous, even with her hair in a tangled halo above her head, log limbs stretching out skin over nothing but bones.

I look to the horizon, see the sky is dark with clouds I had no idea what time it was. Normally I wouldn't have cared, except that I was still technically a citizen of district 12. Attendance to the readings in mandatory. Aveline isn't. Her family said that she had died long ago. Mine hadn't even bothered.

"Come with me. I need to… go somewhere. Let's go together." She bedded, taming my hand and starting out walk to the fence. The divide between us and the district. The Capital might have said it was electrified, but that was only true in certain portions, not in any near us at the moment.

We were both skilled climbers, climbing, straddling and dropping off of the fence in under 60 seconds. I remember when I first went over the fence. When I had met Aveline, the forest savage. But the nostalgia was gone the moment it had appeared. That had been a dark day. Too dark to even think about. Much like the sky right now.

…

Walking out into the square and seeing the girls in some sort of nicer dress and the boys in button downs, I knew I stood out in my dark sweater a few sizes too big and my worn cargos. I could feel a slight breeze on my knee, and looked down to find a gash in the material, revealing my bare knee. Crap. Aveline noticed nothing, and she seemed only awed by the one nice part of district 12, I had been so kind as to avoid the seam. A crowd was already forming the square, and I asked Aveline to go wait with the adults as I got in line for identification. Just a small bit of blood on a piece of paper, a check mark beside my name. I waited with the other 13 year old girls. Most of them were holding back tears. No faces were ones I recognized. I hadn't been a part of the districts workings since I was 10. There were no tears in my eyes. Only annoyance.

When the woman with her magenta wig and matching dress clomped her way onto the stage in heels that made my own feet feel better about the thin soled boots on my own feet. The mayor said some words, the propaganda clips played. The fateful words were spoken.

"Now, now. Ladies first." I hadn't even realized how nervous I was about it. My names o my in there twice. 2 slips. It didn't matter. I was inconsequential. Didn't exist. All the same, I waited for the name to be called, to exhale a breath of release when it wasn't my name being called.

"Avis Byrd."

No. Surely I hadn't heard right. Surely… no one knew the name, except for my biological father. I turned to see his face of horror. Right beside Aveline. No. Oh Aveline. I made eye contact with her, she knew what this meant. Knew that I was about to be taken away from her. I walked up to the stage, strides as long as I could manage, shoulders back, trying to keep the screaming inside. But Aveline was already fighting threw the crowd. She was only looking at me. Slowly I shook my head. _Get out of here, _I mouth to her. She understands but doesn't want to listen.

In a matter of seconds, I saw her surrounded by peacekeepers, batons raised. But she still wasn't leaving. So I mouthed one more word. _Run. _I watched as her fist came up, swinging into one's throat. Shoving them aside, Aveline turned and ran. Ran all the way to the fence hopefully, followed by a growing number of peacekeepers.

"... well then, let's find your partner, shall we?"I nodded, happy that Aveline has gotten away. The woman seemed quite frazzled. Eyes wide and lips trembling, she made her way to the next bowl. Drawing out the next came, she cleared her throat into the microphone. The rustle of paper could be heard around the square. Her painted on smile was a sock red, and it reminded me of blood. She looked down at the name there.

"Elm Donnigan."

Again, no name I recognized. But I couldn't think about that right now. Poor Aveline. Aveline. There was a high chance I'd never see her again. But there was a slim chance of coming home. Home to her. A house in victors village, just for the two of us. Sounded like heaven to me. The kid making his way up to the stage looked like every other kid here. Black hair, olive skin, grey eyes. The miner looks that mostly passed me, since I had never been part of a mining family I guess it made sense. He was young, my age maybe a year younger or older. 13. He would die so quickly. Too quickly. I was just cut all thoughts of his death and emotions from my mind as a hand came up. Raised high above the crowd, the boy connected to the hand called out two words never heard in district 12.

Ash di Angelo-Minsto:

"Hey. Hey, Ash." I turned around to see Percy behind me, already in a nice suit. One of the many things that came with the territory of being a victor. One of the two, and married to my mom. His hands came down hard on my shoulders, and his intense gaze was set on my eyes,

"Are you going to volunteer this year?" oh here we go again. He seemed sure that, "_after everything I've taught you", _I should be more than ready for the games. I should win without breaking a sweat.

"Maybe," I said, breaking out of his hands. I wanted nothing to do with the games, I didn't want to be a victor, or more likely be dead.

"That's what I like to hear, kid." Kid. I was 16, but that didn't matter. I was always a kid. This year he was mentoring, which made him want me to volunteer, or be reaped. Either way, I would have to let him down. I wasn't going in.

"Better get ready. Now, where are your shoes?" I Looked down at my socked feet on the wood floor. I hadn't been able to find them,

"No clue." then I thought better of it, "where's Terra." he pointed up the stairs, where I heard clattering footsteps running up them to the second floor,

"Terra," I called, "get back here!" I saw the tail end of her dress disappear to the right, surely going to her room.

I wasn't even thinking as I charged up the stairs, needing to catch her. It was getting tiring all these arguments with the step monster. At least she wasn't throwing punches this time. Only taking shoes. I turned right, nearly crashing into my mother.

"Oh, mom." I stopped so suddenly I nearly fell. But I maintained my balance,

"Where are you going?" her voice was soft, angelic, just like her face. It was easy to see how Percy had fallen in love with her. The only thing more beautiful than her face was her heart.

"Nowhere. Terra took my shoes, just getting them back," she laughed, running her fingers through my already messy hair. I could see a bit of it when I looked up, a black blur above my eyes.

"Okay. I'll come with you." at least she would stop me from killing her. She turned, leading us past her shared room with Percy, then my own closed door, finally stopping in front of the last door down the hall. The giggling muffled through the door proved that she was in there, and she definitely had my shoes.

I slammed the door open so much that it hit the wall and bounced back to me, it would've hit me if I hadn't placed my hands out. Her room was pristine, a perfectly made bed with a thick blanket pulled over a soft mattress. A clean floor. But no Terra. But I could still hear her. Coming from… I walked behind the bed to see her on the floor, my shoes in her lap. I grabbed them from her, slipping them onto my feet one by one,

"Hey, Jerk. Missed your shoes?" On she called, trying to shove me over as I was hoping on one foot, trying to slide the other into one of the black shoes. I stumbled back,

"Hey." I called back, shoving the shoes on my foot then grabbed her arm. I twist it until she shrieks, and her other ones comes to slap me in the face. A normal interaction between unrelated siblings. Heart warming. But I would have to deal with her for the rest of eternity. Maybe if she got reaped. No, I might hate her but don't wish that date on anyone. No way would the priss volunteer either. So I was stuck either way.

"Terra. Ash," my mother reprimanded, "stop that right now." I did. Standing up and brushing off imaginary dirt, I moved to disappeared through the door. Terra said something along her usual snark, but I ignored her. Seeing the look in my mom's eyes, I raised my hands above my head,

"What? She started it," her smile was a tired one, but sweet all the same.

"Come on, don't you need to get to the square? Thought you were going early with Jasmine and the others." Oh, shoot. I had completely forgotten about that.

"Um, yeah. I should probably get going." she pulled me down slightly, kissing my cheek.

"Go. I'll see you later." I hurried down the stairs. Percy heard me make my way down,

"Remember. Volunteer, kid. You got this." I shook my head on the way out the door.

…

I spotted Trackers brown hair through the crowd. I walked up behind him,

"Got the plan ready?" he turned those hazel eyes to greet me, a fake smile on his face.

"What plan?" then he noticed neither Percy nor my mom were around. The fake smile was replaced with his normal sly grin.

"Oh- of course I do. Come on, I think you'll like it this year." the annual reaping raid. Taking some bread along with Jasmine the next part of the quartet from the bakery. We would find Elm later.

"Great. Let's go. Explain it on the way."

…

Soon as we got to the front of the bakery, I noticed Jasmine's father eyeing us each, knowing what we would do and had done every year since we were 12.

"You two aren't welcome here," he spat.

"Oh, we're only here for Jasmine. Don't want any of your bread," which is what I saw as Tracker slips beside and behind him, into the unprotected store. I forced my eyes back to Mr. Hights so he wouldn't get suspicious.

"I- Fine. but I'm going to keep and eye on both of… where's the other one!" suddenly, Tracker burst out of the doorway beside him, a bag bulging with delicacies in one hand, Jasmine's hand in the other. She was laughing. We all turned and started running to the square,

"Sorry, Dad!" she called over her shoulder, "I'll be back." and we were all laughing now.

"Curse you, miserable kids!" I peeked back just in time to see him disappear back into the bakery. We didn't stop running until we reached the village square once more.

"You know," Jasmine was panting, her brown hair falling messily in her face, "It's not very nice to play tricks like that on my father. He's still terrified if he doesn't keep business up and sales good that he'll be replaced, like last time." ah. About three years ago, the last baker had lost his wife in an accident, nearly burnt down the entire bakery. His daughter had mysteriously disappeared, I had seen her around sometimes, a small girl maybe 9 or ten. Mr. Hights had been taken on to learn, nothing more. Then everything happened and… well we had a new baker, and my best friend went from a miner's daughter to a nearly wealthy baker's daughter.

Tracker pulled the sack from his shoulder, looking at the large spread he had gathered. Pulling out a cake-like roll, he took a large bite handing the bag over to Jasmine, who took it even after her protest. I looked around the square as she chose her own roll, looking for Elm. Surely he was hungry.

"Maybe, but it sure is fun," Tracker cheered, taking another large bite, a bit of sugar shaking off to the ground. I spotted the boy slipping into the square on the other side. I raised a hand,and he saw me. He was the youngest of us all. A little brother. He actually looked like he belonged in 12. His olive skin, Black hair and grey eyes, reveal just how obviously he belongs in the Seam. not if any of us could help it.

As he started jogging towards us, Jasmine tapped my shoulder, offering the bag to me. I looked inside to see half a dozen left. Taking one for myself, I tossed the entire bag to the approaching Elm.

"Hey guys," he had a voice too deep for his age. He was barely 13.

"Hey, Elm." Jasmine greeted. He looked greedily into the bag, surely he hadn't eaten anything to eat today. It made me feel guilty, seeing just how small he was. That might have been why I first took him under my wing.

"Eat up," I suggested as he tore into the bag. Took out a large roll covered in a thick icing and smelling strongly of cinnamon, and ate it as fast as he could. Only a few moment later he was left with nothing more than crumbs in his hands and frosting on his face.

"'Kay. finish up then we need to get the reaping," Tracker gestured behind us to the signing stations, the lists of names with of each of or on it. We all shrugged, a bit of happiness seeming to flood away directly. There were still two rolls in the bag, and Elm dropped it in the usual spot, behind the large elm tree-the irony had never been lost on any of us. And we started out walk up to the stations, get names checked off the list, go to our cordoned off areas and wait for the reaping to begin, then end. Then pretend the games aren't happening. _Remember, volunteer. _There was no way, I'd ever volunteer.

The ceremony began. A small girl I had never seen before made her way to the stage. Another girl fought a whole group of peacekeepers before fleeing the square. The one on the stage had a satisfied smile on her face, and the effect was pretty unnerving. Then the boys name was drawn. Then the woman unfolded it, the paper wrinkling could be heard all around the square.

"Elm Donnigan."

My eyes went to the boy with that name. He was frozen. He was a statue. A tiny tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn't wipe it away, just started walking up to the stage.

"Any volunteers?" really it was a formality at this point, asking for one. Except for this year. That kid didn't deserve it, I was more likely to win than Elm, and I could make Percy proud. Really, it was a win-win situation. Assuming that I do in fact win the games. My hand goes up, surely Percy is cheering like a mad man.

"I volunteer." the woman is so surprised she is absolutely silent. The day a capitolite has nothing to say is when you know you're dead. I rushed to the stage, Elm barely pushing out a thank you before I pushed him off the stage. Percy was smiling, I could see him in the front row. Teeth gleaming like some wild animal. \

"Well… I… what's your name, sir?"

"Ash di Angelo." the smile faltered as I _accidentally _left out his surname. Oops. nothing against him, just not ready to forget about my actual father quite yet.

"Wonderful, wonderful. District 12, I give you your tributes! Now, Now, shake hands." I turned to face the little girl. Her smile was devious now, slightly scary, like she was already figuring out how to kill me. She was a kid, that's silly. All the same, I was quick to let go and disappear into the justice building.

Avis Byrd:

No one visited me, which was expected. Through the door,I heard a pair of peacekeepers talking about how _the forest savage had made it all the way to the woods. Got over the fence before the electric charge fired up again. I let out a happy sigh._ Aveline was in the woods, she was fine. But now I would never see her again. Then that idiot had just volunteered. Why? Who knows. But I do know he's stupid.

Ash di Angelo Minsto:

Jasmine, Tracker and Elm all came in all at once, after my mother. Terra was probably happy to be rid of me, not that she visited to tell me herself. Mom had said that she just thought I didn't need to say goodbye, that we'd see each other again, but she was most likely just dying not to hurt my feelings. She always treated me like that, like I'm breakable. It gets annoying, but it makes me feel better because it's Mom. My Mom. She cares about me. Percy was mentoring this year, one of the wo victors, and the other ones in his 60s. Wonderful.

As soon as we were one the train, Percy attaches himself to my shoulders.

"Nice job, Victor." I could feel the Byrd girl's eyes digging knives into my back.

"Percy," I muttered, "stop."

"What?" He called cheerily, before walking out in front of me. Turning around he raised his arms high above his hand, gesturing to the grandeur of the Capitol train. Nothing like the coal transports we usually see.

"Welcome to the hunger games." He dropped his hands, "now, both of you come with me. We have strategy to discuss."

**So? how'd I do? Good? Bad? I like all these characters (except Jaeger, he can stuff it), and I just really hope I'm writing them well. Next chapter's be District 1**


	11. Chapter 11 (D8)

**Okay, so I know I said district 1, but I have a not-really-funny-but-I-think-is-hilarious story to tell you all. For some reason, I thought I had finished writing my D1 chapter, so I started working on district 8. then it was the night before I released this chapter and I realized "Oh, crap. I didn't actually finish it". But I finished this one, so this what you get. It's also a pretty short chapter by my standards, so I'll be posting one later tonight. Either district 9 or 1 (if I actually finish that chapter).**

**Chapter 11**

_the day before, the reaping and the goodbyes _

Jéan Hughes:

"Jéan." Mr. Hughes voice comes from the main room of the shop. I walk out out see him holding a dozen small die in his hands.

"Yeah?" he nods to me, not looking up from his stupid dice. He rolled then out onto the table, one or two falling to the floor. I curse, going to pick them up, but Mr. Hughes stops me,

"Wait. they're trying to tell me something." ah, with his stupid future telling again. I humor him, leaving them where they were, including the two on he ground. He studied them all, intense gaze, white hair standing up in all different directions. Suddenly, a new thought seemed to come to fruition,

"I got it," he snapped his fingers, a crazy smile on his face.

"I know what's going to happen tomorrow." his fortune telling had always been off, so this would be good. He pointed an arthritic finger in my finger, it shook slightly,

"You'll be reaped," I don't even want to think about that," You'll be reaped and then you'll win." this was the one time I hoped his future ideals were spot on. But I just sighed. Only the truth come from my mouth,

"That's bullshit," I sighed. He was the only person worth being nice to, but not that nice. "It's the future, the fates are decided," I shook my head, going back into our quarters. He could fantasize all he'd like, but it wouldn't made a difference.

"Just go back to your die, Old Man." he did, I could hear him pick the up, roll them across the table once again.

Later that night he called me again. I was sure he was about to spit more bull, but instead I found him with one of my ropes somehow tied around him.

"Really, Mr. Hughes?" he shrugged, spouting off more of the same. _It's decided by the fates, everything will happen. _

"Something like that."I untangled it from around him,

"How much did you make today?" I looked at the jar to see only a bare bit of coins. After even after using it for food, we would still be hungry. He started to finger the rop again, and I whipped it behind me,

"Stop touching my stuff," I called out, before going back once again. I gotten handy with untangled them, getting some in under half a second. Really depended on the time of day, length of rope and and level of batshit crazy my adoptive father brought to the table. Tomorrow was the reaping. _And it seemed like I was supposed to be reaped. _

"Total bullshit," I muttered, before blowing the oil lamp, submerging my small room in darkness. Need my sleep if I'm going to be going on a trip.

I look quite a lot like Mr. Hughes. The one that had first taken me in, at least. The same dark hair, blue eyes (his haven't lost their vibrance in any way as he's aged), light freckles. In no way were we truly related, but he was the only father I had. I separated from him, going to the sanctioned off areas for those of us unlucky enough to have their names in the bowl. My own name was in their 15 times. Only 15 out of thousands.

"Remember," he called, "You'll be coming home."

"That's total Bullshit!" I call back, before turning and stepping into line, pretending not to hear any of the other pieces of crap coming from his messed up mind. Then the smallest bit of blood was taken from finger. My names was crossed off, and I was led off to the large group of 15 year old boys. Each ones face had varying degrees of annoyance, fear and worry on them. I'm pretty sure mine was just angry.

Not minutes later the reapings began. A smaller girl named Harlene Something waked up to the stage. A boy beside me had his fist clenched so hard his knuckles were turning white. He seemed more angry than I felt.

"Calm down, kid," I called, the kid looked at me, a snarl marring his face. Dark eyes crinkling, his hands came up to shove me away,

"You can't just tell me to calm down, idiot. That's my best friend up there. So yeah, I'm not exactly calm," I pushed him back, harder. He stumbled into another kid, who in turn retaliated against him, then me.

"Cool it, both of you."

"You know what? Fuck you. Fuck both of you." the first one tried to punch me in the face, but it was slow, so slow even I was able to avoid it. I was about to throw one too, probably just as sloppy and slow, but the peacekeeper rushed in. pulling me away from the kid. The butt of his gun came down on my back of my spine. I turned around, about to start another fight. But then the I heard the gun cock, and I knew it wouldn't contain blanks. I put my hands on the floor beside me.

"Oh My Goodness!" the woman on staged was obviously distressed by the events that had just taken place. I stood, my spin cracking with the blunt end of a gun still lingering on my skin.

"Well then. I… it's the boys turn. And the male tribute is…" and then she said my name.

Well, shit. The peacekeeper that had been too eager to throw the end into my back hurried to my side, shoving me to the stage. I froze.

"Hey, man. Chill out." because I wasn't going to tell anyone else to calm down.

"Keep walking, kid." the gun was digging into my back,

"No."

"You think I won't blow your spine off?" I shrugged, still not moving,

"Yeah, actually. You need a tribute, don't you? For your precious games?" to my pleasure, he uncocked the gun,

"Just keep walking, smartass," I could live with that. For good measure, I turned around, slapping the idiot across the face. Though my hand burned, he didn't even blink, and then i just walked up to the stage. Matching looks of horror were on the two faces there. I shook small girl's hand. She was positively drowning in that dress, a sea purple fabric pulling her down. After that we were ushered to the waiting rooms. Where we would each get to say goodbye to friends and loved ones. I don't have any friends. I only have Hughes.

...

Tompkin Hughes didn't visit me. _The fates _probably told him it was a bad omen. I wasn't hurt, or sad. Just freaking pissed. Cursing out everything in the room, muttering and thinking them. The ignorant and selfish people that put me here, that are here in this room, are monsters. there 's no purpose to any of this. The games are nothing more than a ploy. Wouldn't rounding up 24 of us at random and then just killing us right away be so much simpler? It's because of their lust for blood, their selfish minds believing the games are some sort of sick manifest destiny situation. Thus the hunger games came into existence. Selfish ignorance, nothing more. And ignorance is dangerous.

Harlene Cross:

There was a time, maybe I was 7 or 8, when I asked my father about death.

"What's it like to die?" I had asked. It had been just after I watched the games that year, and I was curious. My father leaned down, his hair was red and shining with the late sun,

"Death doesn't hurt," His smile was wide, and it told me I should trust him,

"It doesn't?" I was skeptical,

"No, no. It's what comes after that'll hurt."

"What's after death?"

"A fiery nothingness, that'll eat you up inside. But no one will care because, well, you're gone."

He had always been a superstitious man. Well spoken, even if he only spoke to me. He was everything I was, the only thing I cared about. He visited me in the room, along with my mother. While he hugged me, whispering little nothings and telling me it was okay and that nothing would harm me, my mother seem to fold into herself. She was more guarded than usual, and more cruel too. Then I faced her, looking squarely into her eyes. Then she looked down, to where her fingers were twisting her wedding band with a grip like a vice. Then she plucked it off her finger, dropping it so quickly I was barely able to catch it.

"There," she said, "A token. To remember us by," for a moment I was touched, she had never been a sentimental woman, then she shrugged, "I'll get it off your body soon enough." and it made sense. We didn't hug, and I instead went back to my father's side, sliding the ring onto my right ring finger. It was just a little too big, but fit well enough.

"Ignore her," he whispered in my ear, then he pulled back to look me in the eyes. His green eyes were large and slightly mad,

"Listen to me," he spoke low and quickly, "Listen very carefully. Remember what I said? Live by it. Be strong enough to seek the unknown. It's better than being a part of the games." My mind was turning, but I couldn't think of what he meant. The reaping seemed to slow my thoughts down a bit,

"What do you mean?"

"I mean death won't hurt. Not one bit. But the games. It's worse being alive in there. Hear me? Do you understand, Harley?" I nodded, "Do you understand?" He had never been this serious. He was talking about death, I guess. But still.

"Yes," I managed, "I do." then he smiled, and I felt like I finally knew the man in front of me,

"You know what you need to do. Don't be afraid. Remember, it won't hurt. Not one bit." I nodded, again,

"But what about comes after?" he stood, gesturing to Mother to leave, avoiding my question. Just as he was about to leave, let Heath, Indie and Dalton in, he turned back to me,

"I don't know. That's what makes your duty so difficult to fulfill." then he was gone.

The door didn't even get a chance to close before it swung wide again, bringing Heath, Indie and Dalton in its wake.

"Crap," Indie's face was flushed with anger,

"Yeah." then she turned to the other two, shoving Heath into Dalton, just like the other kid had before the reaping.

"These two idiots got the chance to pick a fight before I could. "

"Hey!" Heath called out, before coming to my side,

"I'm so sorry Harley. This is so unfair," then his eyes flicked to Indie, "It should have been Indie," she took an aggressive step to him,

"Say that to my face, Heath."

Then she broke her angry mask and revealed a girl I had only seen a few times in the years I had known Indie Psychs. It was so gentle and innocent... it was like I didn't know the hater of such a sad smile.

"So… you think you'll win?" it's in places like these that people shatter. Strong walls crumble revealing injured souls underneath. I laughed, knowing that I probably wouldn't even be able to take the other guy in a fair fight. Even an unfair one, he'd be the winner. The victor. Either way, I would force myself to do as my father wished, it was the least I could do,

"Absolutely not." at least I was honest.

She didn't hug me, but she obviously wanted to, but there was that hard exterior again, keeping her away from any form of affection. Heath didn't hesitate, sweeping me into his strong arms, holding me like a small child,

"Nonsense," he muttered, "You'll come home." Dalton scoffed, his dark eyes flashing,

"Maybe… in a box."

"Hey!" it wasn't my voice, but instead the conjoined work of Heath and Indie.

"That's not fair. Don't talk about that now," in my last moments with either group, I will be reminded of just how likely that I'll be coming home in a box.

The last few tear-jerking moments passed, and Indie and Heath left. Heath had gestured to Dalton, asking him to go too, but he whispered something in his ear, and Heath left with one last goodbye. Then I was alone with Dalton. Instead of being tearful like Heath or dropping his mask like Indie, he seemed to put one up.

"Have you ever kissed someone?" his words came out like knives, cutting and scraping,

"No," I hesitated, "Why?"

He shrugged, taking steps closer and closer to me, and then he was so close he could have kissed me,

"Just checking," then he did.

His lips were warm, pressing into mine with a soft pressure. He didn't break the connection for an eternity, but when he did it was tii quick,

"What was that for?" why was I out of breath? Why did it feel so good? Why did I want his mouth back on mine?

We made eye contact for a moment, before the mask crumbled. His eyes got watery, and his anger in this moment seemed to be spilling out,

"Crap, Harley, can't you tell?" he took my hands, his eyes just as intense as our connection moments ago,

"No?" he squeezed my hands tightly for a moment, before leaning in to whisper in my ear,

"I like you, Harlene Cross." then he pulled away, turned to the door,

"And that was just in case you don't come back." because he knew I wasn't coming back. Because that didn't matter and I just got my first, and probably last, kiss from a boy I've known my entire life. I could feel his lips still lingering on mine. I nearly smiled, though I knew I wouldn't be smiling, not for a long time. Never again.

I was left with only one thing;. What to do. How to not participate in these games, to show the capitol that they don't own me. How to take my own life away from them…

I'm sorry Dalton.

**Did I do okay? I know is this definitely a shorter chapter, but it's still a chapter. Do you guys like Jean and Harley? Which one do you like more? Why? **

**Oh! And I'm don't plan on using a sponsoring system. considering this is my first jab at writing an SYOT, I think I'll just bypass it and stick to writing. **


	12. Chapter 12 (D9)

**If you guys hated Jean, just know you are going to absolutely despise Blaze. Just a warning. on a happy note, that's 2 chapters in one day, I might even get to 3, so keep an eye out for that. either way this chapter is the second last reaping. by this time next week we might be in the games! **

**Chapter 12**

_the night before, reapings and goodbyes_

Mica Lee:

Brown hair. A nose once broken and never really healed, eyes like storms, long scars crisscrossing an underfed body. A bullet wound scarred over, hidden by a dark jacket. These are the features that make up Scarlet. A smuggler with no name, no real name that is, and her only a younger brother from another mother. These are the things that make up Mica Lee.

"Hey," I recognized the voice, "Scarlett."

I didn't need to look up to know it was Charon, one of my many business partners,

"Yeah?" I kept walking, and he fell in step beside me.

"New order. Coming in tonight. 12 o'clock." his accent got heavier as he relaid the time. Not capitolite, something gentler. Sweeter. If only what he was talking about was sweet, instead of about illegal trade,

"What's it this time?" I muttered,

"Some dust. Syrup. 'Nother batch of Morphling and Morphia. An order of guns and weapons lifted from 8. Might want to get yourself a new clip." Morphia, a new muttation off of Morphling. I've never seen it before, but I've heard it can stings like a tracker jacker -delusions and everything- and has mostly the same effects of Morphling. then the dust, from 9 I think, been around ever since I started in the business. It gets you completey hammered. Seen it many times before.

I nodded, "I'll be there."

"Great," he slipped back into the shadows as easily as he had slipped out. Charon wasn't his real name, just like mine wasn't Scarlet (thought I was surprised he had used my code name, normally he just called me delivery girl). It was just a precaution. Smuggling banned goods is a dangerous line of work, and it's better not to know real names. I'd never had any of the dust myself, but saw how bleary it made others. Like Charon that one time, back when I was 14. He never lived that down. Not I my books at least. I kept walking, and let my finger work their magic. By the time I get to the victors village, I have a small bit of money and pockets overflowing with different grain products. Including 5 rolls I managed to lift. A rare treat. If I had it my way, Rhyse would be treated like this normally. He did live in one of the large mansions on the victory row, but it was one far far away from any other filled home. We were supposed to live there. Instead, we were supposed to live with an abusive drunk, a man who got addicted to the things I now dealt. I may or may not charge a little extra on his jobs now.

I climb in through the window, looking around the dark room to see if I can find Rhyse in one of his many hiding spots. I can't. So I call out his name softly.

"Rhyse? Rhyse? I have dinner. You hungry?" The promise of food provoked him. He ran down the stairs, they barely creaked. I tossed one of the grainy rolls to him. He caught it.

"Hi, Mica." He was the only person who called me Mica anymore. I liked it.

"Hey, Rhyse. What have you been up to today?" All day I had been out, getting our food and… doing business. Normally I was just the delivery girl, but one of the other workers had gotten sick, and had needed someone to fill in for them.

"I was good," he promised. I have him a large smile, but surely it was nothing compared to his.

"Yeah? What do you consider as being good?" He pulled me to the large kitchen.

"I organized the pantry." Inside were the only hits of food we had. I added the rest of the rolls to the jar of them. Some greens were tied together with string, and chicken broth. There were times before I had landed the job that was we'd eat for days. Broth. It made me come to hate the soup base.

"Well, I would consider that good. Great job, Rhyse. Do anything else?" He shrugged,

"I… well, I cleaned your collection." I froze, my own roll inches away from my mouth. I knew there was only one collection he was talking about,

"Rhyse, I told you not to touch those. Knives are sharp. Some of those guns don't have safeties. You could have blown your head in." For affect, I pulled my own small pistol out of my waistband. I pointed the gun at him, clicking the trigger. It made a hollow pop, firing a blank.

"You won't always be that lucky, Kay?" He nodded. I felt terrible Doing This to him, but I had to. I couldn't let him go along my path.

"Eat. I'm going to rest for a little while." His eyes darkened,

"Do you have a job tonight?" I nodded,

"Just a small one. At midnight." I walked passed him, kissing him hard on the forehead. He didn't move.

"Come on, Rhyse. I'll be careful, I always am." It took effort not to cover the wound on my arm. But his eyes went their anyways,

"Really? Yeah, you're always careful. That's why you have those scars, right?"

"Rhyse, what's gotten into you?" this wasn't my Rhyse. He was sounding like… me.

"Nothing. I just don't want you to go." I had the feeling he would follow me if I didn't stop him. But I did have that sleep syrup… a load picked up off last weeks delivery.

"Fine. Just eat." I walked into the next room, this one just as dim with the only light we could have had coming from blocked off windows. No one could know we were here, one of the reasons we only came in and out through the one unblocked window and never walked down the street like a normal person. I go behind them all, creeping through the dark woods lining the back row. Inside this room were all the small knick knacks I had picked up with the trade. A peacekeeper uniform, one I had never needed and hopefully never will, was laid it neatly in the corner of the room. It was one of the few clean things we owned. Just in case. A pile of small knives in the corner. A pair of pong swords laid out neatly beside them. A pile of empty clips laid beside my other gun. With no ammo. Each item had an unusual shine, proving that Rhyse had in fact cleaned them. Not that I could blame him, he had nothing to do all day everyday. I sighed, dropping the gun with its mate, but keeping the knife that was slid into its sheath and then tied to my leg firmly where it was.

The sky darkened. Rhyse seemed to forget all about the job tonight. I checked on his bedroom. Fast asleep. Happy, I walked out to the kitchen, then out the window. I started a slow jog, keeping my pace slow and steady. It slowed to a walk when I saw the first uniform on watch outside the Main Street. Ducking into an alley, waiting for him to pass. Just needed to get it the station.

On the way, I passed by two more gun carrying peacekeepers on the way. But then I was there. The usual train wasn't there yet, but Styx, Hero and Charon all were.

"Anyone else coming tonight?" Styx and Hero jumped, guess I still had some stealth, but Charon just looked over me, unsurprised by my sudden appearance,

"No. smaller load today." then the train rolled in. in the past few years the capitol trains were becoming unmanned. Automated computer programs ran the trains, and all they needed was someone to press go. It was empty now of any grain products now, it had already been to almost all the other districts to pick up it's current load. Luxury items from 1, weapons from 2 (my chance to get another clip), and all the other things from the already visited items. The roster left out some of the more illegal items on the list. The morphia, sleep syrup, nightlock, morphling, all of that was there too. And we got to work.

"Hey, Delivery Girl," I looked up to see Styx, his dark hair pressed up into a cap, waving to me, "Help me out with this, would ya?" he was referring to the large crate he was trying and failing to lift by himself. I nod,

"Would you stop calling me that?" I asked, annoyed,

"It's what you are. Unless you'd prefer Scarlet," it's true, I hated that name. Got it for the scars that had been all over my body before all this, before more were added from this line of work.

"Nevermind."

On 3, we lift. I could see why he was having trouble. After 2 dozen more crates were moved to the station, it was over, my part at least. The next link in the chain would be a lengthy process. Selling, giving and receiving of the packages took some time. Especially the Morphia. It only in worked in such large quantities that it was hard to move around. I was dismissed.

"You'll get your pay when the sins are repented," he always said that. After every single job without fail. He believed in sins and virtues. It was decided that a job like this required a lot of repaying. I had no such beliefs in me, father beat those virtues out of me ages ago.

"Of course, Styx," I took a step back, "Find me at the reaping. Tomorrow. Surely they'll be repaid by then," he nodded.

"Now, if you don't mind, I need to get going." Hero waved me off, along with Styx. Charon sighed,

"I'll come with you."

I shook my head,

"No. remember? It's better to keep interactions to the jobs. Nothing more. Can't have you following me home,"

"You have a home?" asked Hero, trying to be funny and failing miserably, "with the way you dress I thought you were one of those orphans."

I pulled out the knife, it made a pretty noise falling out of it's holder.

"Saw that again," I spoke calmly, "And you won't have a tongue to say it with."

It was a normal interaction between the two of us. I turned around, raising the knife above my head as a sort of wave goodbye. I started to walk, but I heard heavy footfalls behind me. I turned around to see Charon.

"Wait, you were serious?" he nods.

"Why not. Might be nice to see where you live." I shrugged,

"Fine, but you better not get me caught. Still have some bruises from our last delivery, they make things difficult." he laughed, which was odd in itself. Charon didn't find anything funny. Ever. or maybe that was why he was laughing, because it wasn't funny in the least,

"Me too," he had it worse than bruises, he had twisted his ankle when he had been fleeing into the cornfield. I had had to kill the peacekeeper before they shot him. He still owed me for that. That had been the last of my ammo, was only able to get some today.

After that he didn't speak, feet falling lighter. We avoided all peacekeepers. Eventually, we got to the farthest field. Something was wrong, the only thing past here was the village. He seemed to notice that too,

"Where do you live?" his voice was quiet, but not quite enough,

"Live out of one of the unused mansions. What about you?" he looked down, and I noticed the bruise forming along his hairline.

"I… I don't live anywhere, anymore." I shook my head,

"You can't be serious." I nodded,

"Parents kicked me out last night. I figured I could… come home with you?"

"I'm glad you thought of me," he looked down, and a pang of guilt hit me like the bullet that had once ripped through my arm, "Fine. You can com with me. Rhyse might like you, I guess." he needed to talk to someone, someone that wasn't me.

"Who's Rhyse?" I started walking again, and he followed.

"My brother."

Rhyse looked at me with hurt in his eyes,

"I didn't want you to go." I shook my head, "I'm sorry, buddy. But I brought a friend." I pulled Charon through the window.

"Hey," he smiled at Rhyse, who was obviously surprised, "I'm Charon. Nice to meet you."

It was nice. Rhyse seemed to like him well enough, and vice versa. I led him into one of the many unused room.

"We're not biological siblings," I told him as any explanation. My skin might be dark, but his was purely black. His hair matched his skin and was curly, while mine was brown and straight.

"I figured." I looked away, walking back to the door,

"Yeah, so just… um… you can sleep here tonight,"

"Thank you." "It's no trouble, really," and I fled.

Blaze Morrison:

The girl was on the ground, coughing up blood. I couldn't tell if the blood in my knuckles was hers or from my own split skin. It didn't matter. The hit was exhilarating, and I went to kick her in the stomach. The air left her body as it made contact. She was crying now. Shrieking sobs. It didn't stop me from hitting her again. It went on like this forever. Her nose was bleeding, the skin on my knuckles split.

"Let's hope I don't have to do this again." She was barely conscious now, wasn't even able to cry. I had a wide smile on my own face. I walked away, the taste of metal fresh in my mouth. That felt good, it always felt good. Suppose it was the one thing I had gotten from my mother. It definitely wasn't my red hair, or my freckles. The scars were all her though. Every single one of them.

I went back to the house all the same. She was out, doing what I don't know or care. So I tended to my red knuckles. They colored the water in the basin a pale pink, bits of dried skin clinging to the surface. I wasn't sure who each bit of blood belonged to, the girl or me. But my hands were clean, leaving only raw slashes where I had broken my skin. Done with that deed, I moved to the main room, the smile still on my face.

It was barely another moment before she came charging in. her fist met my face in an instance, knocking me to the floor. The most common greeting.

"Get up," she spit. My face still stinging I did.

"Go, get the- the thing from outside," she could never remember the word for firewood. I did. Running outside, I felt my face. It was already swelling. I grabbed the first bundle, tied up with twine. It's not like we really needed a fire tonight, she just liked to see me work. Dropping it by the empty pit, she asked me to light, throwing a pack of matches at my head. They clattered to the ground.

It was lit in a few moments of struggle, right before I felt her fists once again. The fire roared beside me, heat nearly singing off my clothes. Again and again, harder and harder, she struck. It was things like this that formed my own being. I turned to see her red face, right before her final blow struck me into oblivion.

I woke to an abandoned house the next morning, head pounding. The once crackling of the fire dispersed to little more than a small whistle, the flames die down to little more than sparks and embers. Looking outside, I saw the grey sky. The sun would be no help in revealing the time of day. So I hurried out of the house, seeing the hoards of people walking towards the reaping. The girl from yesterday stood out from the crowd. An eye swollen shut. A limp in her walk. An ugly bruise on the other side of her face. It made me smile, even through my own pounding head. Surely my face looked nearly that bad. Not that it mattered all that much. The path beneath me was well worn, footprints embedded in the dust. Every time I turned around, saw the damage my fists had done to that face it made me smile. And I looked back a lot. A buzz flowed through me. Crackling electricity. It was in the air around me.

The buzzing wasn't lost, all the way to the reaping. It was still there during the usual speech, but faded slightly as the man on stage walked to the boys bowl. One of the many things different about 9. In every other district it's ladies first, but not here. The buzz died with the words spilling out his lips.

"The male tribute is… Blaze Morrison!"

It was rekindled inside. This would be fun. The feeling of skin breaking under my knuckles are still fresh, and it was echoing in my head. Imagine all I could do. I could probably even win.

Then the next name was called.

Mica Lee:

"... Mica Lee!" No. Oh no. My eyes went to Charon, his eyes looking around. He didn't know that name. Finally they came to me. Oh, why hadn't I reloaded my gun? Why was there nowhere to store in this stupid dress. Surely this was a joke. I couldn't be… the sea of girls parted around me, proving that I wasn't hearing wrong. It was me. But I wasn't moving. I felt the hand on my shoulder,

"Please take the stage, Miss." I shook my head. Turning around, I looked down at the man's holstered gun. I grabbed it. The metal was warm in my hands. A little larger than my own pistol, but a guns a gun right? It was loaded in a suspiciously short amount of time, and aimed at the man behind me. He cursed, grabbing his Barton instead. Another hand was on me. The gun swings around, making sickening contact with somebody's wrist. When I turned around again, I saw the single peacekeeper had split into 3. One had their own gun put, but they wouldn't fire. I was a tribute, after all. That one had his knee blown out. The backfire on this gun was stronger. The bullet exiting at lightning speed. The man screamed, my hands smelled of metal. Blood stained his white uniform. Surely this was rigged. But now I had done nothing but make a scene.

The other two didn't hesitate in pulled me away, up to the stage. The other one was led away, limping. Should have aimed for the head. The man was flustered, annoyed. He asked me to shake hands with the guy on stage. I recognized him. Recognized the poor girl with a swollen eye and assortment of bruises beside me in the reaping. The kid who likes inflicting pain on others. He had never succeeded with me, not to that he hadn't tried. I noticed a slight discolour to his cheekbone. A slight bruise halfway formed. It was almost as repulsive as that sick smile.

In a whirlwind, we were led away to separate rooms for our goodbyes. My father didn't come to visit, was probably too drunk or hungover or high to even realize that it was his daughters name drawn. But Rhyse visited.

"Why?" He asked. He didn't cry, growing up with our father he had learned to quell that years ago. Instead he only looked sad,

"You'll need to start looking out for yourself, okay?" He nodded, but I needed to continue, "don't take out any tesserae. Try to get yourself a job. But don't even think about Delivery. Don't do that to yourself. You don't deserve something like that," I wanted to cry, but my eyes were just as dry. I could still smell blood, see bone. It was a terrible shot. Should have gone for the head, I thought for the second time.

"I will," be said, "I know. I'll miss you." And I hugged him,

"I'll miss you too. Just be careful, okay? Don't watch the games?" He nodded, and I think tears were finally starting to fall,

"I'll be careful. I can't promise that I won't watch though.

After Rhyse came Charon. He was 18. He would never ha wrk go through that. And neither would I, I guess.

"So… you're not Scarlett," he said finally,

"No. I'm not."

"I like Mica. It suits you." And he knew my name. All the boys did. But I would never know theirs.

"Yeah… and yours isn't Charon." He nodded, a minute flick of his head,

"Uh-huh."

"Could I know your name? Your real one?"

"Remember the rules?" I rolled my eyes,

"That this point, the rules can screw off. I'm already going into the games. If I die it won't matter. If it doesn't, I don't think I'll need to be a delivery girl anymore. So tell me." He looked down, clearly trying to decide whether or not he wanted to. Seemingly he did, because a moment later the answer came,

"It's Milo. Milo Faux." I sighed, settling in next to him on the couch,

"I like that name too. It suits you." He smiled, a rare thing I would readily accept.

"I hope you'll win."

His hopes were futile. Mine were benign.

"So do I."

**This is definitely one of the more unbalanced chapters. There was just something about Mica that I felt compelled to write. I do my best to stay away from the serious unbalance like this it does happen. I just found it easier to write Mica. But what do you think of them? Love them? Hate them? I won't give my opinions yet, but you can probably guess. But just know that a lot of the things about Mica were things I made up, including her brothers name and how they live in one of the seldom used mansions in the victors village, but I stayed as true to the form as I could. I hoped you like this one. Now, how to deal with Reign and Celestyn... **

**For now, I'm going to get my party ready for when I'm done with these reapings (I completely understand how Professor R.J Lupin1 was felling after finishing TYAU right now)! anyone want to come? **


	13. Chapter 13 (D1)

**3 in one day? I am on a roll. This one is short, like really short, at least by my standards, the Sequoia chapter was longer. Just be prepared for that. **

**Chapter 13**

_the morning before, reapings and goodbyes_

Celestyn Scoles:

Sweat slicked my hair back, their usual waves stingy and straight. The bandages wrapped around my hands were stained and grimy. I would need to get new wraps later. My sparring partner was in front of me. His blade was shining, just like his eyes. They were even the same color. Steely grey. The blunt blade came up, a wide swing coming at the side of my head. I ducked, jabbing my own sword into his stomach. He blocked. We went back and forth like this, blow after blow. Finally I saw an opening. He held his sword slightly to the side, fatigue damaging his usual perfect swordsmanship. We had been going at this for nearly an hour. All the same, I moved with lightning speed, adrenaline coursing through me. My blade on his hilr, I twisted it viciously. It clattered away, leaving my point an inch from his unguarded chest.

He froze for a moment, eyes looking between my blade and my face, before trying to kick it aside. He failed. I dropped the sword anyway, pushing him over, I landing on top of him, a foot holding each of his arms down.

"I win," I gave him a smile, hands squeezing his throat with just enough pressure for him to know they were there. He rolled his eyes,

"You win. Again." I rolled off, both of us lying down on the mat. My head was pounding, the aching muscles I could finally feel refusing to let me stand up. So I just laid there, but only for a moment.

"Again," I requested. Pyrite shook his head, turning to face me. When had he taken his shirt off? I guess I was in a tank top, but still. The muscles in his stomach rippled, contorting as he moved.

"Really? Why?" I rolled away, rolled all the way to standing. Grabbing my sword from where I had dropped it, I turned back to him, pretending my body wasn't on fire,

"Because we're both volunteering tomorrow. I need to be at my best if I want to come back." and I did want to come back, live the dream after the nightmare. He rolled his eyes again, stretching out over the mat,

"Why? Don't you want to be able to actually walk later? That'll be kind of important if you want your triumphant taking of the stage."

"I know you can't see me, but I'm rolling my eyes," I tapped the blade again his back, and he turned once again.

"Not right now, I'm too dead. Besides, you'll win anyways, so what's the point?" Because I need to keep going, improve my skills for one last day before the descent to hell. It would be one fun hell, but hell is still hell.

"I- Fine. But I'm so going to come home from these games." I turned away, only to hear him get up behind me. His footsteps were almost as heavy as his breath. I knew what he would do now, what he always did. His move. Hand on my neck, foot coming to try to sweep my legs out from under me. But I was expecting it. He knew I was expecting it, too. But Pyrite was Pyrite. This time when I threw him to the ground it should have been nothing. He should have had a few bruises at most. Instead, I heard the crack of bones. His scream and his hands clutching at his calf. I jumped at the sound of his screams. Crouching beside him, I looked down and saw saw a repulsive bone cutting through his skin, barely visible through his hands. It still made me want to gag. Then I realized something,

"Dammit," I muttered, moving his hands slightly. He hissed as the air attacked the revealed bones. I did my best not to gag. I only did a little bit,

"That is definitely broken."

"Yeah," his face was contorted with pain, "No duh." and he wouldn't be going into the games. For a split second I felt brief joy over that, knowing that I had was even more likely to win with him out of the picture. Then I felt guilty,

"There is no way you're going in now."

He shook his head, "No- no I need to," he tried to get up, but I pushed him back down,

"No. I can see your bone, Py, there is no ay you can walk let alone compete."

He tried again, only to shriek,

"You're right," he finally admitted, "I can't. You're going in alone."

"No. not alone," I argued,

"But without me." I sighed,

"Even better. That way I can come home to you."

He sighed,

"Now," he was all business, even through the pain, "Help me get to the reaping, please?"

…

The female tribute's name was called. I volunteered. I looked into the crowd to see Pyrite standing, leaning heavily into a disgruntled Topaz. Neither looked too happy about the arrangement. The next name drawn was one I didn't recognize, one that didn't know he was actually going into the games.

And the male tribute is…

Reign King

Reign Faust-King:

Topaz King is a loving husband and father of 3 adoring daughters. His three daughters were all born when he was older. In his early 30s. Before that, he had a son. Knocked up a poor woman for no seeming reason. Born out of wedlock, that child was kept a secret. That was, until he wasn't, until he was found out when he was 12. When the man who shared the boys last name sent men to get rid of the evidence. They got rid of the loving mother, Divinity Faust, but the boy managed to escape_. _That boy was me. Sometimes I can still feel the dizzy confusion wash over me. The blow to my head, the screaming of my mother behind me, as I fled the house. My father wanted me dead.

The incident was years ago, and today was nothing more than moving day. I came across it many times in a month, always on the move, always scared out of my wits that the man and his bat would come back and finish off a half baked job. That the hand that took my mother away would come back to take me too. I had lived in a collection of places over the past few years. Three different ones a month at the least, for the past 6 years. That was… well, a lot.

The silence in this place, a small nook behind the academy, made me want to claw my eyes out. So I started humming. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew it in its entirety, so I hummed, it was only on the last few gentle notes that I realized it belonged to the Panem Anthem. Because long live Panem, right? I settled in, legs curling into my chest. The final tones ring out right before I close my eyes, the darkness of the night compared to the darkness behind my eyelids were the exact same.

_My mother's scream were loud, too loud. I wanted to turn back, needed to help her, but what use was I? The batton whacked me in the side of the head, knocking me to the floor. Dust plumed around me as I fell, turned to see a hulking man who I looked too much like, _

"_Why?" my voice wavered over emotion after emotion. Fear, anger, sadness, all of them bundled up within a single word, _

"_For my children," he spit, before I blacked out. _

I woke up the next day in a daze. It was repaing day. It took me a moment to remember what that was. The day before the games really began. It was later in the morning, I could tell by the lazy heat if not the grey sky. If I was late it would cost me a public whipping. So I hurried to leave, wearing the only clothes I still owned. A ratty white shirt closer to yellow than pure white, and tan pants that were just a little too small. Shoes with soles so thin I could feel the rocks beneath my feet, every single one jabbing into my feet.

It seemed only moments later I was in the town square. Bodies heavy around me, all loud and quiet at the same time. My head was spinning, and I had to work not to crash into the guy next to me. Just like the guy collapsing into a tall red head a foot from me. Then I heard my name. I could've sworn I was imagining it. But the silence was back, the eyeclawing hair-ripping-out silence. But what did my name being called mean?

The games

My death

Oh. oh, no. oh no oh no oh no. I hoped I was wrong I… the white uniforms surrounded me in a moment, forcing me to join the doll-like blonde on the stage. She gave me a tentative smile, an apologetic one. This was okay. There was a volunteer there was every year. I looked out into the crowd, hoping, begging someone would take my place. Living out of back alleys and eating scraps to survive was bad enough but… no hand raised, no voice called out to save me from this fate. instead,I was left only to shake the girls hand, and go to wait in a room where no one would visit me. Wonderful.

Celestyn Scoles:

My parents visited. They were kind, though not like they used to be. After Onyx, well, they weren't the most caring. I got congratulations, farewells and expectancy of great things from both of them. They wouldn't have cried, even before Onyx died, because this is district 1, and we don't cry.

Then Pyrite, Topaz, Moe and Diamond came in all at once. Each one proud, I noticed that Pyrite's leg was bound up, in white bandages and a splint.

"Good job, Celeste," Moe scoffed, gesturing to Py's leg, "taking out your competition before the games even begin?" I rolled my eyes, waiting for Py to speak up for me. When he didn't i did,

"It was an accident. Besides, isn't this better? That way the 5 of us can stay 5 instead of 4? Either one of us wouldn't have come home but now…"

"I would've won," Pyrite spit. I was so surprised I took a step back,

"I'm sorry?"  
"I could've come home," he repeated, "I would have won. And you know what? Screw you, Celestyn." anger is something not usually worn by him, and to be honest it didn't suit him,

"I'm sorry," I tried again, but he wasn't having any of it. He asked for Topaz to help him out the room, and he did.

"Bye Celeste," He called, before disappearing with Pyrite. We had been having a good time, then there had been an accident. I felt light headed and nauseous for a different reason now.

"Well then… he's upset," Moe was never all that articulated when she spoke,

"Morganite…"  
"Don't call me that," she was irritable, that always happens when someone used her full name. She found it too feminine, which was all around dumb.

"Fine," I waved the issue aside,

"It was an accident, you know?" she shrugs, stepping back towards the door,

"I know. And I know you'll do great. Now, I need to go make sure he doesn't kill someone, probably himself," and she was gone, leaving me and Diamond.

She hadn't spoken at all in the group meeting, but now she came towards me. The little sister of the group, she was a year younger than the rest of us, meaning if she played her cards right, next year she could be the one to volunteer.

She mentioned it. She hugged me. She left me too. And I was alone, finally given a chance to think about the games. Maybe it was a good thing Pyrite wasn't going in after all. a knock came at the door, telling me that it was time to go. So I left.

**So I'm not all that proud of this chapter, and I doubt anyone finds it too good either. It's just a short update on the district 1 reapings, I'll get more into their characters later, I was just so ready to be done with the reapings. I ended up cutting a lot of random things that didn't really add anything. The good news is that I'm done with the reapings! Party time! I'll start the next chapter right away. Should be posting it by Tuesday, at the latest. On another happy note, TBITW just hit 1000 views. It's not much but it's pretty awesome for me. anyways, enjoy. the next one will be a couple of different train rides and experiences on the train (for the ones that weren't on the train yet).**


	14. Chapter 14- Train Rides and Other Stuff

**I did it! I finished the reapings! And here we are, about to enter the Capitol together. Que flashbacks from 3 weeks ago when I started writing this syot- and how has it only been 3 weeks? And I'm not sure how it happened, but these were kinda written in chronological order. So we have the night before, the morning, getting off the train and then the prep work and meeting the stylists. This ended up being an all female driven POV, so next chapter will be mostly males (Acer and Jaeger, I'm coming for you). Enjoy.**

**Chapter 14- Train Rides and Other Things **

_POVs: Athena, Chrysanthe, Lillith, Abilene_

_A small recap of the reapings in the first scene_

**Chrysanthe Wolfe, D4F: **

I heard a clatter behind me. Barely flicking my head to the right, I saw Mars walking into the screening room.

"Oh, hey," I looked back to the screen, watching the reapings for the 5th time at least. It was on District 11 now, and I watched two sickly sweet love birds hugging on the stage. I wanted to call out, tell them to get a room already, but I didn't. I remained silent as Mars settled in next to me,

"Hey Crystal."

"It's Chrys."

"Crystal," I rolled my eyes, turning back to the screen, which had now moved onto the District 12 reapings. A small girl with a very foresty air around her took the stage, followed by a pale boy who volunteered,

"He's the second volunteer from an outer District," I spoke mostly for my own benefit, trying to words on for size,  
"Yeah. I don't know how I feel about that," I picked up the controller, replaying the clip, starting back at district 1. A pretty girl was the volunteer, she spoke calmly and smiled constantly, it made me sick. What made me even more sick was the next, reaped, tribute.

"And that makes… two reaped careers?"

"Well.. at least your bright," he laughed, even though it wasn't all that funny.

"Hey, I can manage myself well enough in a fight."  
"Not enough to be chosen, though," I scoff, he tapped my shoulder, forcing me to look away from the girl from two, taking that stage with her scars out like a banner. She stole my look, scars were kind of my thing, all the same, she seemed good enough.

"Yeah? But at least I didn't chicken out at the last moment, like Ethan," I looked down. He shouldn't have brought that up.

"You probably would've. You just didn't get the chance," he notice the reproachful tone in my voice, and cursed quietly,

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Just sarcasm, you know?" Well, his brand of sarcasm wasn't all that funny.

I'm not sure why, but I started talking about Ethan, turning back to see a mute girl practically dry heaving in the stage. A boy with a sock smile on his face following,

"We both knew we were Hong I together for the past month at least. Heard the instructors talking about it. He had always seemed to prepared, always thought he was going to win. I just don't know what changed," then we were on the stage. I froze he image on a closeup of the two of us shaking hands. I was trying to figure out what I had shown the Capital up there. They would already be making assumptions and forming opinions off of thesevery clips. Would they be good? Bad?

"Yeah. I don't know either." It was like he could hear my eyes rolling.

Moving on, the girl from district 5 was small, and I could almost see three long scratches down her face. Claw like marks. Nothing like my own sword swipe. Maybe a knife, the lines were just precise enough, but most likely a stiletto. The boy was a throwaway. A small, dark skinned underfed kid that would surely die in the bloodbath, he tried to ask me something, but I spoke over him,

"How much you want to bet either of them won't make it past the bloodbath?" He laughed, leaning jokingly into his knees, scrutinizing the scene.

"I'll bet on the guy. What's his name? Drake Ru? But the girl… she'll survive. I can feel it," that was an intriguing sentiment,

"You believe in fate, Mars? In destiny?" He shrugged, leaning back into the couch again. I looked outside, saw the dark sky,

"I don't really believe in anything."

"We should finish this up, it's going to be a long day tomorrow." We watched the next few in silence.

6- A girl who was all limbs. A guy with scratched up hands. 7- Another marked up one -all these kids and there scars, an overfed kid who looked like a pit bull with no teeth. 8- a small blonde and crazy eyed redhead. 9- a mediocre faced girl and an older guy with split knuckles. 10- a pretty girl with striking multi coloured eyes, the volunteer. A kid who was doing his best not to cry. 11- the love birds again, just gag me already. 12- the small forest savage. The volunteered 16 year old.

Soon as it was over I turned it off with the click of a button. Standing as quickly as possible, I dropped the controller and fled. He followed,

"Hey, where are you going?" Que shaking head here,

"Where do you think?"

"My room?" I stopped so fast I felt him crash into me. We both stumbled. I turned around, slapping him a little harder than I would with Saturn or anyone else on the chest,

"Funny," I turned and started walking fast.

**_Ayyyy! Athena's back. I missed her!_**

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

I could hear the pacing outside my door, more than that, I could feel the metal under my fingertips. I had slipped a butter knife at dinner. It wouldn't do much but it was some kind of weapon at least. Acer had been outside for hours. Playfully turning the knob a couple of times. Just wanted to remind me he was there I guess. It was already hours after I had first gotten into bed, but I was still wide awake. More hours past, and surely we were closer to dawn than dusk when he footsteps finally walked away and didn't come back. I sighed into the soft pillow, letting myself relax for a moment.

That moment lasted hours. When I woke up, it was already morning, a sun finally peeking through the muggy grey clouds. The knife was still in my hand, though the metal had turned hot and slick with my sweat. I was ready to remove the worn dress, forget about the last woman who wore it, one who loved a man who was ready to see me die. Though I suppose the man she knew died the same day she did. A death in childbirth, survival of the child, only with mere disfigurations to boot. _I'll be glad when you're dead. _The words still stung, even the next day. A wound no more healed. But I couldn't let that stop me. Instead, I removed the reaping dress, why had I worn it to bed? Put on the stretchy pants made of a thick fabric and matching shirt laid out for me. Because stupid kids like us can't possibly choose what to wear, right? Either way, I walked out to see the back of Acer disappear around the corner. I took a step back into my room, hoping that he wouldn't see my foot just barely peeking out of the doorway should he turn around.

After a moment I turned back, walking out behind him. He was already sitting down when I walked into the train card. I wanted to sit as far away as possible, but Hera Omina was already sitting in one seat, our mentor, the victor of the 103rd games Cyndric Hallows, in the one next to him. So I was forced to sit next to Acer. I took a bite of a roll, before his leg came swinging viciously at mine, if I could have cried out I would've. Instead, I only heard his voice in a low whisper,

"I'll look forward to killing you, Mute."

I wanted nothing more than to scream at him, tell him to shut up, say that Ariadne wasn't my fault. But I couldn't. Instead, I just ate my food.

I was just begging for an excuse to get up, so when Cyndric looked up and away from us, my eyes followed. The Capitol came into view outside the window. As much as I hated it, it was mesmerizing. I might have gotten up to gawk at the window even if I wasn't trying to get away in an organic matter. Large buildings made of glass, wood, metal, anything you could imagine to use as a building material it was there. The vanity in that. The architecture designed purely for aesthetic over purpose was appalling. But it was oh, so beautiful. Then the arena. A large glass dome, out in the nowhere between collections of buildings. A new one built each year, to maintain the glory of each arena and every single death, every arena is preserved. Sick. twisted.

I turned away, disgusted by the mere sight of the Capitol. A slight bit of turbulence made my feet falter, and I looked back up to see a wicked smile painted on Acer's face. I stayed by the window, not letting myself go back to my plate. Instead, I just watched from a distance, a silent spectator, per usual.

For the rest of the meal, Cyndric was as silent as I was. Come to think of it, so was Acer. only Omnia had anything to say, and she was only talking about the wonderful day ahead of us. First, they would smooth us down, like quarried stones, put us in stupid costumes before sending us out in parade floats to let the Capital see us in our full glory. It's sick. Everything about these games is sick, but nothing worse than back home.

**Abilene Ackerman, D11F:**

I felt Winsteads fingers lace with mine. I looked over to see his wide smile, hair still a little damp. I pushed it off his forehead with my other hand, smiling like an idiot. It was futile, it just came back down to fall into his eyes. I pointed at the dark red hair,

"You should really cut that," it was easier to pretend. Pretend it's just a normal day that his parents or mine maybe even Barric would come walkin through the door. Pretend that te only thing different the usual that we just had incredible food now.

"Yeah?" he gave me a winning smile, flopping his head down to make his hair falling right into his eyes, "Well what about now?" the mentor, a woman named Quinn Blake coughed into her sleeve, as though she was asking us to get a room,

"Oh my, aren't you two adorable," the escort clasped her hands together, "young love. If only both of you could come home."  
I dropped Winstead's hand, but he grabbed mine again, leaning into my ear he whispered,

"Don't pay her any attention. Just let this last, okay?" I nod, and he goes back to his food, and I go back to fingering the faded shoelace tied around my wrist like a fancy bracelet. Then I looked at Winstead's. I thanked him in my head for the thousandth time before moving to eat from my own plate. This might be the hunger games, but the food sure is in quantity. For the first week at least.

…

Stepping out onto the train platform, I felt Winstead take my hand one more time, whispering little condolences in my ear, telling me everything was okay. Reminding me for the _millionth_ time that Winstead was too good for these games. I noticed the sweat staining the back of his shirt, surely he was getting dehydrated.

"Have fun with your stylist, Winstead," he gave me a look, then wiped it off his face as he remembered where we were.

It was as though I had been hit with an avalanche of noise. At first I must have been blocking it out, but the tidal wave of screams and praises coming from the Capitol citizens were shouting their praises, throwing flowers. One landed at Winstead's feet. He picked it up, pulling me down for a moment. He slid it behind my ear, and I could just make out the white petals in my peripheral vision.

"There," I looked back to see his smile. I reached up and felt the delicate petals of a white rose.

"Am I pretty now?" He was all serious as he looked over my face. He was blushing,

"You're prettier than any flower," It was the last thing he said before being dragged away into the prep building. Soon followed by myself.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

_He tore away at my flesh. Blood, blood. So much blood. In my eyes, on my dress, on the knife, in the air _

The capital citizens were rubbing at my skin. Removing layer dirt but also at least 2 layers of skin. Using long strips of sticky paper to yank out any hairs on my body. Legs, arms under arms, even parts of my eyebrows. My skin was red and raw, making my scars stand out that much more. They asked stupid questions about them, alongside some equally stupid comments. I ignored them, side stepping any explanation. How do I properly tell them about the word scrawled into my skin by a searing knife? The man wielding it?

_The screams were no longer mine… _

"Oh, dear. I believe we'll have to lotion you up a bit," I nodded, not willing to use my voice. Instead, I just waited for the gritty foam to coarse over my body. It was painful at first, but I've gotten plenty used to pain, then soothing. My arm felt numb, along with the area around the slabs in my face. They took my hands, smoothed out the jagged nails and filing away my cuticles. They were them painted with an acetone smelling liquid, a faint pink that surely matched my face at the moment.

"_Don't let them take me away!" He was clinging to my dress, two limber figures yanking him off of my petrified body. _

"There you go," a woman with large catlike eyes and stripes skin handed me the robe I had been able to wear on and off as I waited for the treatment to be over. It was nearly hours later and I hadn't met my stylist yet. Didn't want anything to do with a girl from the districts. Not until she was cleaned up at least. "_You're mine." _

The ghost of fingers are still there, hot tears squeezing out my eyes, I pulled the robe over my naked body. It was so odd for these people to see me like this, everything out. The same woman led me to a room,

"There you go, Lillith," the Capitol accent still there but very faint. I didn't thank her, but instead just walked into the room. The reapings were running through my head, lingering particularly on 1, 2, 4 and 9. They all seemed pretty lethal. Even the girl from 7, guy from 3. Each and every one of them an enemy.

"_I'm not the enemy. I care about you, Lilly. Stay with me." _

Some of them seemed nice, I might find myself a few friends along the way. The door burst open. A man came in. Dark blue hair in a straight curtain around his face. Artificial eyes with the matching tone. He wore a black suit, well fitted and filled out by a strong body. He seemed young, not that you could tell with capitol people.

"Nice to meet you, Lillith. My name is Brome Helicon." I have her a smile, knowing exactly how she would react. She would want me to smile, say something sweet, be compliant. So I was all three.

"It's nice to meet you too," he smiled back, he didn't notice how forced mine was, and I made myself smooth my features.

He surveyed me, seeing me as nothing more than a set of features. Nearly blonde brown hair. Mediocre skin. Eyes dancing between green and brown.

_Three long swipes of metal tearing at my flesh. _

I wished he wouldn't say anything, but he was a Capitolite, so he obviously had to say something horrible,

"So, I think you're pretty enough," okay? "But what is going on with those scars, baby?" I shrugged, looking down,

"They're nothing. It happened years ago," he rolled his eyes,

"No story?"

"No story," he huffed like it was some sort of anticlimactic moment for him, like he could have made them something special. He still could,

"Just come with me, baby. We have a chariot costume to discuss."

_"Don't you want to help me, Dear? I love you." _

I can feel myself cringe away from the man, he was too similar to the one all those years ago.

**I'm not sure how I ended up with these POVs, but I just started writing them, so here you are. I didn't want the same scene over and over again, I don't want this story getting repetitive (*casually not mentioning the entirety of the first 13 chapters), so I ended up with this. I hope you liked it. who are your favorites? least favorites? anyone want to bet on who'll win? I think I have at least 10 characters I know definitely won't win (as in I already know how they die), but who do you want to win? I'll update as soon as I'm done the next chapter. it will either be a similar chapter form the males POV (I'm not sure if that one is good enough for the people who have taken the time to read this yet), or the chariot rides. Hope you liked this one.**


	15. Chapter 15- Chariot Rides

**I decided there wan't really anything to write about to the male side of last chapter, so I moved right on to this one, which is very sparatic and messed up. Blame it on a lack of sleep and writing late at night.**

**This one isn't from two POVs, or 24 POVs. I wasn't very inconsistent writing these, so some have 1 POV, some have none. Some of those POVs are one paragraph, some are 5, there is no rhyme or reason to this chapter. These are all pretty short and/or unbalanced POVs, so I'll put down what each district was wearing in a list down below everything. So just enjoy. **

**Also, no clue why but I ended up putting random thoughts about the characters before each POV. Why? No clue, but hope you like them. **

**Chapter 15- Chariot rides**

POVs: I don't even now, this chapter was just a blur

**Mars Marker, D4M: **

All of the costumes were pretty incredible. Looking back, I saw the other tributes all staying far away from out large crowd of hulking volunteered careers. And two reaped ones. The other kid, Reign King, he seemed cool enough. Joking around a bit, but Jasper wasn't having it. It was only a few minutes before the chariots would be pulling out, when I would stand next to Crystal and give the Capitol a first look in real time. I was about to turn, when I crashed into Crystal, how had I not noticed she had moved behind us,

"What?" She looked annoyed for a brief second, before seeing me and laughing slightly. It was an uneasy sound, but I gave her a laugh of my own,

"Sorry, should I save that for the chariot?" she shrugged,

"At least you didn't call me Crystal," was she joking? I didn't think she was, but who could tell? She could.

She dragged me away,

"Come on, we have a chariot ride to prepare for."

**Celestyn Scoles, D1F: **

Reign tried to talk, but I wasn't feeling much like it, so when the snow white horses pulled out, I was thankful for it. We were first, and I felt all the eyes move to me, to Reign King. cameras flashed, and I could nearly feel the lights bouncing off of us. We were diamonds. Oh, Diamond would love that. I stood straight, feeling my hair handing heavy and straight behind me, the same glitter coating my hair, swirled artiscally around my face. My arms melded to the rest of my body, the suit covering my fingers. My face remained in it's happy smile, a small wave as I looked around to the millions of capitol citizens. I heard my name called a hundred different times, from a hundred different directions. I looked over to reign to see he looked like he was about to throw up, sparkling dust in his own hair. I felt a bit of pity for the kid, before I turned away and back to our adoring fans.

**Amber Steele, D2F:**

_**I hate calling her Amber. her name is Rusty. I will change it to Rusty in her POV title after this, just so you know.**_

"No," I shook my head as the I stared at my reflection, "No, no. I'm not wearing this." I was wearing a dress. A long silly thing that went past my ankles, pooling around my feet. My stylist looked annoyed, but not quite angry. Because the people in the capitol never get angry, only have one emotion: sadistic pleasure.

"Why not? You look lovely," I rolled my eyes. I don't wear skirts. I'm not Eleri or Madigan, I'm not that perfect girl my mother wanted.

"I look stupid. Can't I wear what Jasper got?" I look over to him to see him in his own pants.

"I'm sorry, but you have to wear that."

A few minutes later and I was sulking worse than Jasper. Then the chariot started moving, and I had to wipe any anger from my face. Forced to look away from the backs of the two in front of us. Jasper was pretending I didn't exist. Well, his loss. When our chariot started moving, I put a smile on my face, a wall going up around myself. Keeping them at arm's length, keeping them wanting more. I felt uncomfortable in the gladiator outfit. Plated gold metal where a shirt would be hiding most of my body, but surely Eli and Madigan would be loving this. The dark lines redrawing out my face, bigger eyes, high cheekbones, my rust colored hair behind me, unnatural curls slightly blowing behind me. My smile was larger than I wanted it to be, but it was there all the same

It was as though I was about to fall, but I definitely wouldn't grab the chariot and certainly not Jasper. He looked uneasy enough.

**Acer Chriss, D3M**

Mute was trying to stay as far away from me as possible, she was practically leaping off of the chariot. Fine by me. Maybe she would jump off, be trampled under one of those gorgeous horses. But no, her death would be mine. I stared straight ahead, doing my best to ignore the rage I felt burning me from the inside out. There would be time for that in the arena. Face smooth, I didn't look around, see all the people. Did my best not to let the smile spread across my face, knowing the girl beside me would soon pay for her crimes.

**Chrysanthe Wolfe, D4F: **

I stepped onto the chariot, and he followed, the moving platform just barely stuttering as he stepped on. I turned around the see the next chariot, to see the boy we had bet on just last night. I pointed back,

"Still stick with your bet?" I asked, his smile was natural, real. It was too real,

"Maybe I'll change my mind in the arena, but for now? Yes." I was about to say something ese, but the chariot started moving.

The dress was beautiful. A silky blue material that faded into sheer fabric showing off the strappy heels I was forced to wear, the only benefit of those was that I was now taller than Mars. The head piece made my head spin. Coral and resembling the victor's crown. And I had to admit, Mars looked just as strong without his shirt on. It was an all around pleasing experience.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F: **

"_Stay with me. Don't let them take me away!" _

The conductive material I wore was odd, but just as unnatural as anything I would deal with back home. Faulty wires that needed to be fixed. I was a legitimate circuit board. A body suit of black material with dozens of flashing bulbs, things I knew were too finicky to use at home, but not here. This was the capitol. Materialism and aesthetics far outweighed practicality.

My stylist had told me to clap my hands just before going out. So when the horses began their clomping walk, then progressed to a short jog, I figured now was as good a time as any. With the clap of my hands, the bulbs burst to light. Hundreds of fluorescents lighting my body and Drake's.

"_I never want you out of my sight," his voice was too smooth. The words were too gently to be convincing me to do what he wanted me to do. _

I shook it off, putting a smile on my face, fully aware of the eyes looking over me. It was like right after the incident all over again. My parents, the twins, everyone I knew watching me like a hawk. It was like they were waiting for me to snap. I wouldn't snap. I'm stronger than that. Was even when I was 14.

"_I'm no delivery girl," his hand came and struck me. It was pain. So much pain. Then he brought out the knife._

**Jaeger Primrose, D7M: **

Carsyn was ignoring me, something I was completely fine with. She's just jealous. Looking around the first launch room of many, I was able to see all of the tributes in their stupid costumes. Much like my own. A victor shouldn't be wearing something as terrible as a stupid tree. At least when I win, I'll be wearing something much better when I have my interview. That is only two weeks away.

I was above the countless people around us, chanting my name, there was no reason to even notice their existence, so I kept my eyes forward, no hint of a smile to be found

_**Not as bad as Jaeger or Blaze but… *doesn't scream about character and continues writing **_

**Jean Hughes, D8: **

No one could hear the obscenities I was screaming, but they surely saw the hand gestures. It was no surprise that I didn't hear my name called, not like the girl next to me. She was cute, but childish cute. She was kind of curling into herself, trying to get away from me.

"This is all bullshit," she looked away from me, maybe pretending I didn't exist. Something I was fine with.

Jeans were never all that comfortable, but I as in full jeans now. Pants, jacket. So was Cross, wasn't that a shitty situation?

This is the road to death, but it sure is a pretty one. _If this is what death is like, death will feel both my fucking fists on his fucking face. _Huh, I like the sound of that. If need to remember that later. At every word I shouted, Harlene Cross flinched away.

**Mica Lee, D9F: **

As a smuggler, having eyes on you was never a good thing. I was always the person no one saw, and the people who did see didn't see anything ever again. But this… millions and millions of eyes seemed to be on me, me wearing something I never would have worn back home. Obnoxious and loud, I was eye catching. Demanding attention. It was just too uncomfortable.

My partners would see everything that went down tonight. See Scarlett wearing a ridiculous outfit standing next to the districts resident monster. But I wasn't Scarlett here. It was Mica. A name I had only ever really been called by my father. I liked Scarlett, I was Scarlett.

A jolt in the chariot sent me gripping the side, and I looked up to see Blaze Morrison smiling at me, the sick twisted one. His bruise was covered up now, much like my own. No one had questioned my bullet wound, just covered it with the lit up fabric.

**Jovanni Gold, D10M:**

"Come on, Dawn. can't you talk to me?"

"Well, you're the one who used to avoid talking to me, so I think we're even," I shook my head, turning away and forcing a smile on my lips. Of course I shouldn't expect her to be friends. I had done so much to her. _Just don't call her Crow again. _

"I just figured we could be allies," she scoffed, and I turned to see her own smile had faded away for ust a moment,

"Yeah, like hell do I trust you."

I deserved it. It sucked but I did. I would have felt better knowing she was willing to be on my team, or maybe she was letting me on hers. Either way, now I was on my own, and it was doubtful that I would find another partner.

**Winstead Dale, D11M: **

We were nearing the end of the track. I was positively dying in the heat. Even Abilene was sweating, so one could only imagine what I felt. Even with the sleeves rolled up, ruining the look that Abilene had mastered. People were just as taken with her as I was. Awed by her beauty, ignoring the sweat staining her back. Why had they made these costumes so ridiculously hot? Were two different unitards really necessary? All the same, I was here beside Abilene, which was all I needed. They were loving us, Abilene in particular, chanting her name, staring at her. She was beautiful tonight. She was always beautiful.

So just as we were about to disappear into the training building I leaned in to her. I wasn't sure if I was going to kiss her or hug her or what, but she stopped me,

"Save it for the arena," her smile would make me do anything. So I waited, taking her hand instead.

**Avis Byrd, D12F: **

We were the last to go. Our charcoal black horses didn't even need blinders or someone to steer. They were so well trained, to do nothing but carry tributes down the streets once a year. I was a coal miner, the usual fan-fair. Nothing revealing either, which I was grateful for. Aveline would never see this, she would have listened to my advice. Surely she would never leave the forest again. Not unless I came home to whisk the two of us away to a giant mansion in the Victor's Village. Something to imagine. Something to wish for. And it might even be a viable option. Only 23 other tributes, right?

* * *

_**Then the stuff I failed in describing up there, and probably failed in describing down here honestly. But here are all the costumes**_

**The chariot costumes: **

**D1**

Fitted unitards covered in glitter, so they seem to shine like actual diamonds. Glitter was dusting their faces and hair.

**D2**

Gold plated armour over their chests, a gladiator type costume.

**D3**

wires wrapping around their torsos, green leggings with silver hardware, wire type bundles hanging off them like capes. Heels for Athena,the leggings go past them

**D4**

Amphitrite and Poseidon

Chrys: a coral green flowy dress that hugged her waist and flowed all the way to the floor, hair in beachy waves, a floral crown in her hair, dress with a scale type design becoming translucent at the bottom, revealing her platform sandals

Mars: A trident in hand, scales drawn onto his skin, a unitard melding into skin, in the same color, covering his feet

**D5**

Stylists created a conductive material that can be manufactured into clothes. It was a black shirt with leggings but had small bulbs all over it that made her shine in blinding white. The prep team also gave her lipstick, eyeshadow and even face paint in swirls to reflect the light.

**D6**

The night sky seemed to float around them, spilling behind them in colorful trains, clear visors over their eyes, knee high black boots, matching black fingerless gloves that go past their elbows

**D7**

Tree, tree, tree, tree… they are trees

**D8**

Stylist taking the _Jean_ thing to a whole nother level. A canadian tuxedo if I do say so myself

**D9**

neither one had any suggestions, and I am really struggling on the creative end here, so really whatever you picture here

**D10**

A serious space and galaxy vibe (Why? Why not, who needs livestock). Idk it was in the submission form so I'm just doing my best.

**D11**

I got a lot of detail for this one (So thank you curiousclove for that), so I'll just sum it up

A nude unitard and then another over top of it, with messy green lines like grass running up it. Ridiculously hot (as in heat)

**D12**

Coal miners. Really all you need to know

* * *

**Anyone want to guess what Athena did, or why Acer hates her so much? What about Lillith incident? This was just a short update in the chariot rides. Milestone after milestone. The first training day should be up as soon as I decide how I want to do the POVs, so anyone that has any suggestions I would really appreciate it. Any more opinions? **


	16. Chapter 16- Training Day 1

**Hey! sorry I took so long to update, but I just had a whole bunch of basketball this week (a tournament and 4 practices, I am dying currrently) and wasn't able to write all that often. it took the same time to write it but it was over a longer period of time. All the same, I'm back and no one cares about what's happening in my life. That being said, I'm not all the proud of this chapter. I think you'll see why after reading it. I did my best to balance the POVs, but then there were just scenes I wanted to add, and I ended up with 6 POVs when I was supposed to have like 3. **

**Chapter 16- Training and Failed Alliances (Day 1)**

POVs: Seqouia Carsyn, Athena Lightes, Winstead Dale, Dawn Night, Jasper Knopp, Drake Ru

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F: **

The explanation of the facility and the rules was only the background noise to the silent death stares thrown in the room. The girl from 12 was smaller, younger than everyone else in the group. She still stood tall, almost taller than some of the others, though she could barely tip the scale at 80 pounds, with that small figure even smaller due to hunger. The girl from 10 inching away from her district partner. Jaeger trying to squirm his slimy way into the large pack of careers in the back. They were looming over the feast laid before them. 20 other tributes they were ready to slaughter. Not that I'd go down without a fight.

There were two rules to the training facility- or to the fighting arena's at least: You may not maim or injure the other tributes, and fights may only take place with padded or blunted weapons. There was only one thing I gathered from the 10 minute discussion with the capitol women. _Stay alive. Wait for the arena to start taking lives. Don't be one of those lives. _It was simple enough. The woman, Amarus Lieonn, let us go.

I wandered for a few moments, looking over the survival stations. But I knew most of them, most likely all of them. After being on the streets for a few years you learned some things. I ended up going to the fight circle, far away from the careers and their target practice in the other side of the large room. They would notice me soon enough, just wasn't good enough yet. Looking over the blunted weaponry, the ones I would see in the arena, for a long time I started picking them up. The long swords were too unbalanced and didn't fit comfortably in my hand. The axes were the same. I had the upper body strength but not the years of experience it took to master a weapon like it. Dad has kicked me out long before I could try to knives were too small in my hands. Eventually my eyes flirted to the curved blade right at the bottom of the rack. It was beautiful. Cynical with a sheen of new silver over the blade. A scimitar.

After having one of the many instructors in hand teach me the basics of holding it, swinging it and using it in general, we started a duel. Slow and steady. I had never really been in a physical fight, better at avoiding them, so this was something new. But something I picked up well enough.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

Early in the morning, Hera has given me an odd device to write down what I wanted to say. Could I have used a piece of paper? Yes. But this was the capitol, and paper was too _District-esque. _As soon as we were released I hurried away. As far away from Acer as possible. This time it didn't seem like he wanted to make my life miserable. Yet. It would be soon enough when he was ending it. Or trying it at least.

I went to the fire starting station, along with the smaller girl from 8. She sweet, scared out of her wits of course. She reminded me of Ari a bit. Those few weeks she had been kind to me before… she died. All the same the girl was nice. Said her name was Harley. So I typed in my response, my fingers clicking loudly away.

_**It's nice to meet you. My names Athena. **_

It's the closest I could ever come to a normal conversation. She read the words out,

"Nice to meet you too. I like your name," I gave her a tight lipped smile, then looked back to my task. Working away at the kindling. I could have started with a match, but that would be too easy, there was a high probability that I wouldn't be able to get my hands on any matches. And if I do, then that'll be easy enough after this. The cracking sound of sparks and bits of smoke fly into the air greet my efforts. I nearly smiled.

"Nice job," she sighed, still working at her own.

_**Thank you. **_

She was too focused to read it. After 5 minutes later and she had a roaring fire too. After stamping each of them out and thanking the instructor we were on our way. I wanted to go somewhere, anywhere other than the firing ranges and weaponry. Or Acer's station, water purification. We went to the knot tying station which didn't seem all that booming with business. Not the most popular. But there was one guy, her partner. Jean Hughes, I think. Based on how the smaller girl shied away from him, I assumed he was someone to avoid. He avoided us. But I watched his fingers work from a distance. Twisting up an intricate knot, only to undo it in a matter of moment. I wanted to ask him to teach me, but that would earn me nothing but a glare. So I walked with Harley to the instructors side, who seemed to be happy to get some company. I think she liked me. Felt sorry for me, at least. Same thing as far as I'm concerned.

It was nearly lunch time, so I might as well have asked. So I typed in the thing that seemed mutual since we started talking.

_**So, are we allies?**_

She saw the words on the screen, sucked a loud breath between her teeth.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, "I can't. We aren't."

People were already heading out for lunch and she hurried to follow, dropping her knot at my feet. And she disappeared.

_Stupid, Athena. _I should know by now not to trust anyone, even an innocent 14 year old from an outer district. I hurried after the tributes,

Stupid, stupid, stupid

**Winstead Dale, D11M:**

As soon as we were let loose, I pulled Abilene to the throwing ranges. I wasn't half bad, and she wasn't even half good. But it was important, if we wanted to survive in there we needed to know everything. Running wasn't the only thing we needed. If was the only thing we really knew, and I would make a point of learning things to survive. First on the list was weapons.

"Are you sure?" I had picked it up pretty quickly, how to hold it, release it, spin it just enough to stick to the board. It was actually kind of fun. She was asking about how to hold it. I adjusted her hands a little bit. They were warm,

"Yeah. now throw." I was reminded of how I wanted to kiss her again as her mouth turned down into a frown, a look of serious concentration. She was just as beautiful in this moment than any other. She turned to me, laughter in her eyes, a look of uncomfortable annoyance at the next blade that had entirely missed the target, clattering loudly into the back wall,

"It's okay," I told her. She rolled her eyes,

"No. I'm terrible. Running is the only thing I can do," that I very much doubt.

"Maybe," I hedge, "but that doesn't matter right now. Now, we eat. Come on, I'm starving," and thirsty. I had already been sweating pretty bad throughout the day, and I remember just how bad it would get working out in the fields. She didn't retrieve the just thrown knife and instead placed the other two she held in her left hand back on the rack. We left the room with the smell of metal on our hands. Something I could do to live without.

We had spent all morning on the knife throwing. Gathering our plates, we made our way to our own table. The two of us sat and ate quietly, trying to forget how much the metal smelled like blood.

"So… what do you want to do this afternoon?" I took a few large sips of my water, looking at her over the table to Abilene making her way through her own plate,

"What's wrong?" her frown hadn't faded one bit. She shook her head, looking at her plate,

"It's nothing just… one of us isn't going home. Neither of us probably but-"

"Abilene," I interrupted, grabbing her arm. She yanked it away,

"No, Winstead, I'm just being honest. Neither one of us is probably going home. But just know, it should be you. If anyone should go home, it should be you,"

"You know," I argued, "I could say the same about you. You don't deserve this, Abilene. Neither of us do. Neither of our families do," reminding her of Barric and Georgia was a mistake.

"I know, I know. But it doesn't change it. You're more likely to go home, you just need to face that," this wasn't Abilene. _Abilene_ was kind and funny, she wasn't this serious. This cynical. But the threat of death does that to the purest of angels.

"Please, just remember it," just like that, the instance of dread and sadness was gone, and I got my optimistic Abilene Ackerman back, a smile on her face.

"Come on, finish up. And then you'll need to keep helping me. I can't figure out how to throw it properly."

**Dawn Night, D10F: **

"Hey, Dawn," I looked up, saw the curly dark hair and perfect brown skin. I gritted my teeth,

"What do you want, Jovanni?" he held up his hands, surrendering,

"Cool it," his laughter soon died when he saw the hard set glare I was throwing his way, "I just wanted to know if you wanted to fight?" he gestured to the mat about ten meters from us. I wanted to fight, really wanted to. The thing about fighting was that I had learned it from his dear cronies, and all the times they had decided to make my life miserable. It's about time to return the favor. I dropped the berries, standing up,

"Sure. why not," I was level with his eyes, only a little bit shorter, but much stronger. I didn't thank the instructor, on started walking right to the mat.

I was already in fighting mode before he stepped onto the mat. Waiting, waiting, waiting. He settled into his stance but I was already moving. A careful elbow at his neck blocked. A step forward, only to retreat. I stalked backward, letting him make the next move. A fake jab only to have his leg start a wide sweep around my own. I jumped over it, using his unbalanced stance against him. Using his own move against him, he fell to the mat, my hand on his throat. The smile never left his face,

"Nice going, Crow, but not good enough," what did he mean? He was just as strong in hand to hand combat, I could tell by the way his knee came up and to the side, knocking me over onto my back beside him. He knocked the breath from me, but I couldn't stop. I kicked back up to my feet. If I was on the ground, I was either in control or I was losing badly. It was usually the second. He got back to his feet too.

"What's the point of this, Jovanni? I already know you'll be doing your best to finish me off in the arena, why start now?" He dropped his fists. Why didn't I strike? I should, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the look in his eyes,

"What?" It was a really good fake out, too good, I'd give him props for that,

"Like that isn't what this is?" He shook his head,

"No, Dawn… I wanted to be… allies," oh those words must have hurt like hell to let out. He was lying, I knew it,

"Yeah," I inch forward, ready to strike, "I'll have to say no."

I stopped just short of punching him in the nose. He didn't even try to block it.

"You're dead, Gold."

It was the greatest feeling in the world walking back to the edible plant station. Jovanni hadn't even moved.

**Jasper Knopp, D2M: **

Peter's face was still fresh in my memory. Alyssa's slight fear still there too. The tang of blood still in the air, metal in my mouth. Then another voice took over my consciousness. _Illiterate Barbarian. _Amber Steele was beside me, flipping one of her two swords up in the air, catching it as it came down with ease. Her words still rang steely in my ears,

"Hey, Amber, come over here," I heard the girl from 1, Celestyn Scoles, call out to her. She caught the circling blade one more time before sliding it into her belt. Then the other. We shared the same weapon, unfortunately. Weapons. Twin blades.

"It's Rusty," she called as she took a few hit steps away, towards the pretty blonde. It seemed insane to think someone who looked like her and acted like she did was so capable of winning these games. But I saw how hard she had been fighting, how quick she was. A threat if there ever was one.

"What?" The guy from 4 , Mars Marker, was beside Celestyn, right along with his district partner. Celestyn's was nowhere in sight. Amber sighed, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. It was a rusty copper shade,

"Rusty?" A smile crossed Mars' lips,

"As in _rusty steel?" _Amber leaned in,

"An astute observation," she deadpanned. My eyes swept the room, looking for the Reign King. He was maybe the smartest of us all. Staying far away from the threats of Celestyn, Mars, Chrysanthe and _Rusty. _

"Back off," Chrysanthe spat. Rusty laughed,

"Oh," she took another step, nearly touching Mars, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you two were a couple," Chrysanthe flushes red,

"No. We're not. But Mats has a girlfriend back home," Mars looked over, a sarcastic smile and tone coming through,

"Currently, yes. But if things go the way I'm thinking, not for much longer. The question is, do you have a boyfriend, Crystal?"

They had completely forgotten I was watching, a skill I had learned was very useful to me. Not moving, staying silent and being nothing more than a watcher. But I was in no means gentle. Peter would know a thing or two about my abilities. I saw the red face and redder blood once again, and it nearly made me shiver.

_Crystal _reprimanded Mars, told him to call him Chrys. Amber fake swooned, her sarcasm raised to match Mars'. She seemed different than the girl I had been around for the last few days. Lighter. A lot like the guy she was _almost_ flirting with. It snapped into place. That was her angle. Mirroring, with certain people at least. She was just as two faced and Celestyn was pretty. Celestyn rolled her eyes,

"Come on. I want to get in a few more sword fights in before the days over," she dragged the trio away. I still hadn't moved. Was too caught up on the idea of Rusty, just how big of s threat she was. Much worse than I had imagined. Just then the girl in question turned back around,

"Come on, Jasper." So I followed. They were all so well melded together, like they had been friends for ages instead of hours. It's the kind of friendship I had with Alyssa and Peter. That took nearly 10 years to form. But this was all surface level. Following, I could see how they stood slightly apart. Arms crossed in front of unprotected chests, fists clenched. None of them really trusted the others, it's just a short alliance to take out the other tributes, then we fight it out between the 5 of us.

**Drake Ru, D5M: **

The girl from 6 seemed nice. Smaller. Then again, so was I. She didn't really speak to anyone, but I noticed she was always there. Satisfied, I realized she like me. I saw that just out of the corner of my eye she was approaching me. She had been at every station I had been to, almost like she was following me.

"Hey," I looked up from her task, inspecting one of the many vials of water. I was attempting to figure out which ones were poisoned and which where safe to drink.

"Hi," she gave me a smile, and it was a nice smile,

"Hey. I'm drake," I stick out a hand, and it hangs in the air between us before she finally takes it,

"I know," I dropped the act, stopped pretending I hadn't watched the reapings a million times,  
"Yeah, it's nice to meet you," she stood up, using my hand to pull herself to her feet,

"Call me Ana," her voice was barely above a whisper, and I couldn't quite tell but that seemed like her usual tone,

"Okay, Ana. What brings you over here?" She smiled,

"I wanted to talk. The silence gets kind of annoying at a certain point. Don't get me wrong, I love silence, especially at home, but not here. Agonizing, you know?"

"Yeah! I do!" She jumped back a little, surprised,

"Oh, sorry. I meant 'yes, I completely understand'," her smile is wider now,

"That's good. Can you show me how you figure out which ones are poisoned?" She crouched down where I just was, the large 6 on her back crinkling,

"Sure," I sat beside her. Picking up one vial, I held it up to the light. Seeing the small specks of foam in the water it was like it was a rabid animal,

"Now, this one's easy. See how the foam isn't dissolving in the water? It's easy enough. Probably some sort of acidic poison. I would bet it burns your insides up," she nodded, and I set it aside, with one vial of slightly yellow looking liquid and on I had dumped some sort into, and though it should have turned to mud but it instead remained separate. Three poisons. I handed her the next vial, and she inspected it the same way,

"I… I don't see anything in here. Does that mean it's clean?" I shrugged,

"Maybe. But it's still probably contaminated in some way. Here, I'll show you."

…

We finished with the first down and ran it by the instructor. The man gave us a wide smile.

"Congratulations. All of them were right," we both thanked him and put the vials back,

"Good job, Ana," she thanked me next,

"Thanks. You two. How did you know all that?" I shrugged, a little embarrassed. It was the thing kids liked making fun of back home,

"Well… my dad's a book clerk. I get the chance to read all sorts of books. Including one about contaminated water," her eyes were alit with the a sudden epiphany,

"Wait, so you basically live in a library?" I shrugged,

"Yeah," She nearly swooned,

"That must've been heaven. I like reading, but we hardly ever have the money to buy them. When we do it's money better spent on food. But that's. You're so lucky," I laughed, a barking sound that was entirely unfunny,

"Yeah," I featured around the room, to the careers in the corner and all the other large tributes, "really lucky."

"Okay, but you know what I mean."

"Yes I do," then I explained how Lin was now married to the mayor, and she practically exploded. I didn't really know her all that well, but this seemed out of character. Seeming to prove that she shut her mouth quickly, distorting the sound,

"You're kidding?" she whispered, I shook my head,

"Nope. not even a little bit," she nodded. Then she fell silent for a moment.

"Hey, what is it?" she shrugged, standing up and looking around. The day was nearly over, and each of our districts partner were nowhere to be found. Lillith Sparks and John Burr. both of them were a little scary. Okay, really scary.

"Nothing," she looked away. Except there was something I wanted to ask. We had been talking for the entire afternoon,

"Do you want an alliance?"

"Alliance?"

"Yeah, in the arena?" she pursed her lips before looking back to meet my eyes again,

"Yes. I would like that."

She said goodbye, hurrying to catch up with John who had just appeared, jut in time to head to the elevators. I had myself an ally.

**I'm sorry to everyone forced to sit through this chapter. not too proud of it, as I said earlier. I think it had something to do with the amount of time I spent on it. because I just had a suddenly really busy week and I wasn't able to sit down and write, so when I did I wasn't in the mood (Which is the saddest thing and I'm aware of that. but I still wrote. just wrote poorly). Either way, tell me who you want a POV from next. **

* * *

**Alliances:**

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrysanthe Wolfe, Mars Marker

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Solana Ennis, Drake Ru

**Loners (for now):** A pretty long list that should be getting shorter by next chapter

Reing King, Athena Lightes, Acer Chriss, Lillith Sparks, John Burr, Sequoia Carsyn, Jaeger Primrose, Jean Hughes, Harlene Cross, Mica Lee, Blaze Morrison, Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold, Avis Byrd, Ash di Angelo-Minsto


	17. Chapter 17- Training day 1 Night

**so this was supposed to be up a week ago, but here it is now. I hope it was worth the wait, probably wasn't though**

**Chapter 17- A Night on a Rooftop- Night 1**

POVs: Lillith Sparks (D5F), John Burr (D6M)

**Lillith Sparks, D5F: **

Training was long since over. A day wasted away at the survival stations. Drake Ru seeming a little too happy for the situation as he worked away at his plate. He left hurriedly, going to his quarters to do god know what. I was about to go to my own when our mentor, Felicity Aaron, gestured for me to come beside her. She whispered a secret in my ear. Told me about a small balcony on the roof,

"Why?" she shrugged,

"Looks like you have enough to worry about. Might as well do it in the open air?"

The sky was beautiful, dark. A million stars barely lighting the way. I was on the roof, a balcony I wasn't supposed to know about. At least I was alone.

"_You're never alone. I'll always be with you." _

Icy fingers still seemed to hold me, the man my brother's nearly killed for laying a single finger on me still there. I needed him gone. I couldn't keep remembering that night. It's so hard to keep pretending that everything's fine, trying to erase those days held for the sake of _love._ The man paid for it dearly. The twins made sure of that.

_His face was just as bloody as mine, beat into unconsciousness. His words were still ringing in my ears, "I'll always love you." _

Keep the words out, I order. He's gone. He's dead, but it doesn't matter. This was a time like any other, when this happened quite often. My chest collapsing in on itself, refusing to let me breath, his words screaming in my ears. So I sing. A tune my father taught me, something that's always been different than the rhymes taught to small children. Like the one about a hanging tree, or the one about better days. There was no meadow for me. No tree either.

I got through a few sputtering lines before the aching in my chest stopped, the attack currently over with. Now I was at the edge of the balcony, would've been able to jump, except for the invisible force field all around it. I would know, already threw a roll over. Or tried. It was now burnt to a crisp and forgotten on the other side of the patio area.

"I hope you're not considering jumping," I jumped back from the edge, turning around to see a boy in a black sweater and pants. One of the 12 that would soon be trying to kill me. He was back lit by the open door behind him, and I saw a tall figure, nearly disappearing into the frame of said door. I could feel the word cut into my skin burning hot, and it took effort not to put a hand over it.

"_... To remember me by…" _

"Couldn't. Even if I wanted to," his hand shot out, and I was ready for that hand to have a knife in its clutches. Not sure what I would do if he had one, but he didn't. Instead, the darkness around us was lit up by a few bulbs, like the countless I had worn on my clothes two days ago. I then showed him the same singed roll, throwing it again. It dropped to the ground in a sizzling crackle of electricity. It was almost beautiful.

"What are you doing up here?" his voice was gruff, but it could almost be considered fake,

"Needed to breathe."

"What's with those scars?" he pointed at my face, the seemingly clawed marks slashing the side of my face,

"What's with the questions?"

"I'm curious," his eyes were cold, dead. I looked down at his own hands,

"What's with your scars?"

"Knives are sharp. Skin is very easily cut," the sentiment turned my stomach to acid. Skin is so easily cut. So easily scarred. But my scars run deeper than that,

"Too easily scarred," I agreed, voice ringing out bluntly,

"Get yours from a knife?" I turn around, looking back to the open night sky, trying not to show that I had just been suffering something along the lines of an attack,

"Maybe. What's it to you. And better question: who are you?" Of course I knew. The boy from 6, John Burr, but I wanted to hear him introduce himself, you could actually tell quite a lot about a person from how they introduce themselves. Or more like what they want from you,

"Of course. How… silly of me. John Burr, and you're Lillith Sparks," the words he said would've seemed sweet, but it was how he said it that made the whole thing seem _silly. _sarcastic and cruel,

"That's me," and that's him.

I didn't want to talk about my own scars, my history, so I asked about his. He sighed, sitting back on one of the few chairs out here,

"No," his voice was calm, though there was the smallest bit of bite behind the words and the smooth features,

"Fine. do you think you're going home after all this?" I just needed to keep talking, anything to keep memories at bay. His head tipped back, looking up to the sky,

"Absolutely. Or go out trying."

"Isn't that exactly what's going to happen. You win or you die?" he stayed from in that position, lights flickering overhead,

"The sky is bright tonight." changing the subject, smart move Burr,

"Uh-huh. Just like our bright futures. Isn't murder for a television show just wonderful, right?" his eyes were hard, calculating. Evaluating me,

"I told you about my scars. Now you tell me about yours."

I realized something, just then. I hadn't flashed back to that night, all throughout our conversation. Hadn't even thought about it. Until now. Where I was given the choice to lay out my life story or run away. But I so tired of running. Instead, I dive head first into a week that I wanted nothing more than to forget. It was easy at first

"I had always been a good kid. Good friends, happy family, never starved. Then the incident…"

_I heard a voice in my ear. A man's gruff tone. Then a calloused hand was over my mouth, another hand dragging me into a building by my arm. _

"_There you go. Isn't that better?"_

"I was kidnapped. I learned later that he was part of a peacekeeper-hunted crime ring, selling drugs, getting in fights things like that, but back then I had no idea what he wanted. Told me things. Like how much he loved me, how he wanted to stay with me, wanted me to help him. When I refused, he… well I got more than scars. For weeks after I had bruises that didn't fade."

_A single night stretched into days. My tongue was like sandpaper, and lack of food made it nearly impossible to do anything, _

"_Don't you want to stay with me?" _

"He threatened me too, but he didn't take the knife out until he knew he was busted."

_It was a night like all the rest that week. I had finally gotten something to drink but it in no way stopped the aching of my hollow stomach._

"One of my friends, Brendon, he had managed to find us, made the peacekeepers aware of where I was being held. My captor, he knew he was made. So he gave me these. A… memento."

_The sting of a knife cutting through my flesh and drawing my very red blood makes me want to scream. All I can hear is my own screams, the man's cruel pleasure in every second. The long scratches on my arm being dug deeper and deeper. Then the knife went to my throat._

"_This won't hurt at all, dear." a steely smile, one carved into flesh. Words written in blood on the walls. Written in my blood. Scars writing out words on my skin. Screaming, oh so much screaming. The screaming never seems to end…_

"The man got what he deserved in the end. The twins, they had managed to get into the house. Nearly shot by the peacekeepers outside the building. But they weren't. They survived. The man was beaten to unconsciousness. Then he got a bullet in the back of the head.

"_Are you okay?" one of my brother's looked at me, yelled at me. He cleaned the blood from my face, the air stinging my open wounds. I couldn't answer. Only sit there in numb, while the man was dragged away, in a bloody mess. Worse than me. _

…

After finishing my story there was a heavy moment of silence between us, an electric charge more pungent than the invisible cage around us,

"The worst part is… these aren't the worst scars I got from that night," what am I doing? Why am I rolling up my sleeve? Showing him the words carved there. He stared at them for a long moment, then he finally spoke,

"Woah. That's intense," There was something comedic about how he said it, I nearly laughed. Then I choked on the tears welling up.

"Can we… talk about something else?"

**John Burr, D6M:**

I wanted to say something sarcastic, keep this crying girl at bay, but I didn't.

"Sure," she was trying so hard not to break down she was nearly convulsing. A weak point, so I kept digging,

"Tell me about your family. Friends?" she shook her head, the tears slowly starting to roll. She wiped that them furiously, turning back to the skyline again,

"T-tell me about yours," Okay then. And so I start in on my family. Told her about the younger sister, Lissa, how she had been a brat right up until the day I left. Probably still a brat. Then about my mom, a kind woman barely scraping by. Then she asked about Wyatt. Not Wyatt personally, but about my friends.

"I had one. Long time ago," it was a feat to keep my face blank. She looked back to me, only a few tears on her face which she quickly wiped away. Smart move, tears are a weakness, any sign of emotion is an opening for a fatal attack. She's already dead far as I'm concerned. This is something I can use. That thought nearly brings a smile to my face but I keep it inside. She needs to trust me, she's too blinded by emotion to see anything I'm planning.

"Had?" She questions, carefully, the last tears swiped from her cheek. I settled back, looking up into a sky that I never saw back in 6. Am the air too polluted, a muddled gray fog that you never saw past,

"Yeah. Name was Wyatt. He's dead now," the words hardly brought any sadness anymore. I had made a point of distancing myself from that. Emotions are dangerous. Fatal.

"I'm so sorry," I scoffed, looking up at the bright constellations for one more moment,

"It's no one's fault. Especially not yours," that was a lie. His death was someone's fault. A boy from District 4 six years ago.

"You sure? What was his name?"

"Wyatt Fletcher."

She thought over the name again, but was given no immediate answer. Then it clicked. The games when I was 12 were pretty memorable. An arena flowing wild with molten lava. Many corpses burned beyond recognition, like Wyatt's for example.

"Oh… oh. I'm so sorry," I didn't remind her that she had just said that moments ago. Apologized. For something that isn't her fault. It isn't even mine.

"What about your friends?" I questioned, steering away from anything else involving me. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to know a little more about her.

"That's not important. Not now," Lillith Sparks was smart. That wasn't a good thing for me. She was calming down, it would be too difficult to seek out information now, so I made my excuses and disappeared into the training centre, leaving her out on the roof.

**How'd I do? I really liked the idea for this chapter, knew I wanted to write it as soon as I finished writing Lillith's first POV. I think John was an okay choice. I probably should have gone with a different character, but I just wanted to write it, and I haven't too much with John in it, so I put him in. The second training day should be up soon.**


	18. Chapter 18- Training Day 2

**Here's the 2nd training day. Hope you like it. I was really tired when I wrote and most of it is probably incoherent, but just tell me what you think. **

**Chapter 18- training day 2**

POVs- Mica Lee (D9F), Reign King (D1M), Jovanni Gold (D10M), Harlene Cross (D8F), Avis Byrd (D12F), Rusty Steele (D2F)

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

Hurrying into the training area I saw almost all of the tributes were already there. Eyeing me as I hurried to one of the many stations. Edible plants. There were maybe 3 other people there-the small girl from 12, all staying far away from one another. We couldn't go being near our enemies. It wasn't something I minded. It's easier to survive alone, it was hard enough trying to support me and Rhyse back home. I couldn't do that here. Now. How was Rhyse supporting himself? Maybe Charon might've started looking out for him, maybe brought him into the business. That thought made me shiver,

"What's wrong?" I looked up to see a boy with messy dark hair and a 12 pinned to his shirt. Ash di Angelo. His hair was pushed back in that _pretty boy _way that made me want to burst out laughing but the mischievous look in his eyes made me stop. Instead, a shiver ran up my spine. Well then,

"Nothing. I'm fine," what is this guy doing?

"Can I show you something?" he gestured down to leaves in front of me, I shrugged,

"Why not?" he stepped in front of me, blocking my view from the green pile. But I humored him. In no way could I trust him, but this seemed harmless enough. About 20 seconds past, and it seemed a little bit… odd.

"You done?"

"One more second," that one stretched into ten and I finally pushed him aside. Impatient. Impatience is something I don't experience often. The pile was gone, leaving an intricately folded piece of pulled together, it was actually pretty impressive that he was able to create it in such a short amount of time.

"What's this?" even to my own ears, my voice sounded monotonous, uncaring. Too cynical, but that was just a show of character I guess,

"A gift," I turned around to see the happy smile on his face. Then he laughed,

"Oh, right. Guess I haven't introduced myself. I'm Ash di Angelo."

"Mica Lee," he bounced on his heels,

"Yeah, I know," of course he knew. I would need to watch the reapings, I just haven't had the opportunity yet,

"That's great. I'm assuming you want an alliance," it wasn't a question,

"What makes you say that?" I turned around, picked up the delicate piece of artistry and held it up to Ash's face,

"This?" he shrugged,

"I mean sure, why not? Need all the friends we can get in a game like this," he might be a necessary ally, but easily overpowered,

"Why not?" I repeated, and he smiled. Definitely an easy enough kill.

"Perfect."

Then I shook his hand. This would be… not fun, but something close to it. A more twisted side of the word.

**Reign King, D1M: **

I stayed far away from the pack of career tributes. Far as I could while being at the same station. The guy who was supposed be here, I didn't even know his name, would have fit right in with them. But not me. They were hunters, and I was hunted. A kid off the streets whose barely touched a weapon in his life. Someone always running away doesn't make a very good hunter.

I have a life of puzzles. Fragments of memories with missing pieces. A brain full of holes. Like the hole in the wrong target across the room. At least the knife had stuck. It wasn't the one I was aiming for, but at least it stuck. Unfortunately, it was on the target of a girl with rust coloured hair, and she didn't seem too happy,

"Wrong lane, 1," She sauntered to the stuck knife, hilt turned up. She pried it out, and it made a loud _shink_ as it came out. It had dug itself deep, that was something I could be proud of at least. Then she threw it. Cold blue eyes focused on her target. Me. I heard it before I saw it, the whistle of a blade flying past my ear. It surely would have cut me if I made moved even an inch. I didn't see where it landed, only saw an instructor rush to each of us, mine making sure the merchandise was intact, hers giving a reminder on the rules established yesterday. She turned away, giving me a jackals grin before heading back to her mark, and throwing another 3 blades in record time with skin splitting precision.

The good thing about this place was that it was never quite. The whistle of blades singing in the air and the thud as they meet their targets. Laughter from one corner, where the pair from 11 were working on first aid. No need to hum. No humming except for the blades released from my hands. I missed the next dozen, but at least I didn't hit any other targets. I went to collect them, hearing the soft murmurs from the group I've been doing my best to avoid. Well, I've been edging away from everyone, but those 5 especially.

**Jovanni Gold, D10M: **

Dawn was shooting glares my way throughout the entire second day. Even when I wasn't looking at her, she seemed to be shooting me a death-glare. I could feel it in the back of my neck. Being watched isn't a good feeling. Being loathed by those all-seeing eyes an even worse one. Why couldn't she just believe me? There was a moment when I thought she had, yesterday, but then all she did was nearly break my nose. Because I had meant it. I had nothing against Dawn, I'd anything I had plenty to make up for. But no matter. I ended up talking to the guy from 9, Blaze, and from 8, Jean. both of them seemed kind of insane, but considering that they were the kind of people my "friends" were back in 10, I felt almost at home. Home wasn't a very good place,

"Hey, 10," I turned to see Blaze, who was walking backwards towards the row of punching bags, "let's see who throws the harder punch," I laughed, following him to the line of black leather punching bags, filing neatly across the back wall. Jean followed,

"You two are batshit. Just like Mr. Hughes."

"Mr. Hughes? Wouldn't that be your dad?"

"Yeah," I laughed, a sound that sounded as fabricated as usual,

"Isn't that a little weird?"

"I'm adopted, asshole" He cursed again, and then ran ahead of me, to where Blaze was already pummeling a poor punching bag. The clanking was the slightest bit unnerving.

…

Blaze won. Punching the first bag so hard the lining split and sand spilled out the bottom in a sad representation of blood. The thought of what he would do to a human body made me pause. But he didn't. Just moved into the next bag. He hit it harder and harder each time, and when I came over to inspect the bag and saw the small splatter of actual blood on the leather I gave a short whistle. I had already seen his split knuckles, and he had just reopened the wounds,

"Calm down, Blaze," he didn't. If anything, he hit harder. So I went beside him, tried hitting just as hard, but he seemed the type who was used to throwing punches, and I might've thrown a few, but not nearly enough compared to Blaze. I made a mental note to stay very far away from him in the arena. Jean too, I saw the way he was able to strangle that assistant with his strings earlier. I was around very dangerous people. So nothing out of the ordinary. Jean soon left, going to fight with one of the on hand assistants. Hand to hand combat. Reminding me unfortunately of yesterdays attempt. The sting of the bag under my knuckles was a small relief, a stinging that woke me up and made me forget. Why couldn't we just be friends?

Because I deserve it.

**Harlene Cross, D8F: **

Athena had been nice. Really nice. It was good to know I wasn't the only helpless one here. But we couldn't be allies. If I had it my way, I wouldn't be around long enough for alliances to do any good. Maybe I could have said yes anyways, but that was even more cruel. Considering I was no toy for the Capitol to play with them dispose. I knew exactly what to do to make my father proud. So I sat. Watching all the other tributes ready up for the game. That's all it is to them, a game. Not life and death. Not murder. But for me, it's suicide. Death won't hurt, if my fathers being honest. If he's not then at least I can hope it'll be quick.

But what comes after? If only it's just as painless. I turn back to my task, how to purify water. Standing a marginal distance away was an unexpected pair. The girl from 5, Lillith Sparks, and the boy from 6, John Burr. They were in an intense conversation, leaving their own canteen a few inches away, idly waiting for it's time to be used once again. I could just overhear their conversation, and I strained my ears to pick up more,

"So, what are you doing now, partner?" John turned away from her,

"We're not partners," the look of shock and slight hurt was obvious on Lillith's face, rippling her 3 long scars.

"What?"

"We might have talked last night but that doesn't make us allies." She tried to say something else, but with that he left her to the job, me averting my gaze and pretending I hadn't been listening. Then I saw the smaller girl from yesterday. The mute Athena. Guilt washed over me, only to be replaced by a steady thought, something deflating the choking feeling in my chest. _It's better this way. It would be pointless. _She stepped up to Lillith's side, and the other girl looked her over. When she turned her face away slightly I realized she was nearly crying. For maybe pretending. Much like everything else here.

She gestured the girl away, and the pair left me alone. There is no real point to any of this. None at all. Not at all. I looked over to where the pair went, to see Lillith talking and Athena using that small device again. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Athena had found herself an ally. That made me feel the slightest bit better. But the acid was still eating away at my stomach.

**Avis Byrd (D12F): **

Ash was busy talking to some girl, an average brunette from 9, two stations over. I was focused on my own task, learning to use a small knife. Not throwing, I was keeping a mental note of all the threats. a mental note to stay far far away from them. Let the hunters fight it out, kill one another, then it would be my turn. Just like hunting animals, like maybe Aveline would come out of nowhere for another game of catch. She wouldn't. But that didn't matter. I would buy my time until it was time for the games to really begin.

I had been watching all the biggest threats move throughout the training room, the careers that all had at least 100 pounds on me, all of them handling the deadliest weapons in the place, wielding them with ease. A large boy with a 9 pinned to his back leaving 3 split punching bags in his wake and bloodied knuckles to boot. The girl from 2 throwing knives and people with deadly accuracy. All the other careers proceeding with other types of deadly weaponry. I was staying farther away from those, considering that multiple people die from natural causes compared to fighting in these games, I think it's better to be one with the elements rather than a foot of sharpened steel.

I seemed a littler smarter than them too, not that I'm half as conceited as them. Though I could be nearly as loud if not louder if I needed to be. And unlike them, I think I'll last quite a while. Nature is my home, much more than the Seam or even the

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

I wonder if the people I'm surrounding myself with really trust me. I don't trust them. I know I'm gonna kill them all. So I put up the wall. Smiles on, mimicking Mars Marker, the dark haired guy from 4.

I wonder if any of them can see my ulterior motives. But then I know they can't. I'm a better at spinning lies then they are at reading them. I doubt most of them know that I plan to kill them all right away. These games would be interesting. I might even go as far as to say it would be enjoyable.

My eyes wander around the room, looking for any of the other big threats I could add to the easy kill list by inviting them to the "pack". None of the outliers seemed too dangerous, the volunteers I might have been wary of both seemed the non threatening sort. Not worth the trouble. By any means, it seemed the boy from 10 would finish off the girl or vice versa. The boy from 9 was definitely a physical threat, but nothing I couldn't handle without resorting to murder in his sleep. Then again, the boy from 8… he might be worth something. He had tried to follow along with the boy from 9, but after realizing he couldn't keep up, and cussing him out with more colourful language than my father used, he returned to the one on one training with an assistant. Hand to hand. I threw my knife, one of the few I had left after one went sailing through the room right past the D1 boy's head. This one stuck to the target,

"Mars," I teased, stepping back a step, then another, "get that for me, won't you?" He shrugged, walking over to the board. And so I walked up to the guy,

"Want to practice with me, 8?" He shrugged, and the assistant stepped aside. As soon as I was on the mat my brain went into high gear, the fighter side of me demanding I strike. I hide my time. Instead, I taunt, I flirt. It gets easier to make someone angry that way. Anger is stupidity, it gets you killed.

"So, can't keep up with district 9, can you?"

"I can keep up well enough, bitch," I narrowed my gaze,

"How old are you?" He jabbed a fist forward, too slow. Instead to grabbing it and breaking his wrist, I dodge it,

"15," sure had a mouth on him,

"Ya know, that's a real articulated insult. What's next? Whore? Slut? You really need to step it up," this I was the assailant. A fist coming at his face, he was so focused on it he didn't notice my foot sweeping his out from under him. I let him get back up, knowing this was a fight I could win. Not that it was about the sparring, it was about the conversation. Which wasn't going anywhere at the moment,

"Maybe. But hell knows I'll last longer than you," finally, a helpful statement.

"You know, I wanted to talk about that. Me. Lasting longer than the pack back there at least," while his eyes flickered to said group I struck again. This was apple fight. I was sloppy, but I didn't need to show him just how well I could fight. The breath left his body as I landed a well aimed jab at his solar plexus,

"Yeah?" He was being careful, not insulting, or lack thereof, me again.

"You're smart. Have the means to kill. And you don't seem the type to have any qualms about killing, do you?" He shook his head,

"Hell no." I smiled, waiting for the cobra to strike. A very slow cobra.

"Now, I never said this but I doubt they'll be around for long in these games," I let him process what I just said, and then a slow smile spread across his face. He knew my plan. I continued,

"After that, it might be a good idea to find me in there. We could be greater than all of them. A reaped career? Knopp and Scoles are fine, but not real contenders in these games. But you and I could be the next pack. A better one."

He was quiet for a second, fists lowering slightly from his defensive stance. Mine stayed up, fists clenched and waiting. Finally his voice came,

"Deal," I sighed, commanding his fists back up with a flurry of my fists,

"Meet me at the highest point of the arena. If there isn't one then the Cornucopia. As soon as possible." He nodded, and I took one more step off the mat. A small wave and I was off. Enjoyable. Mind games like this were always as such.

"What was that about?" Celestyn leaned in, a small smile on her face, a knowing smile. Charisma steaming off her. Time to play my part,

"Just check it out a potential threat," she dropped the weapon, a silver bow that didn't seem to suit her at all, on the rack.

"And?"

"And he's nothing I can't handle. Even without a weapon," As I ran my fingers through hair, slightly damp from the days work, I felt the scars beneath my fingers. Odd to think of how I had gotten them.

**Not sure whether they'll be two chapters or just one, for the training morning and then the private sessions. And tell me who you'd like a Private session POV from, because there is no way I'm doing all of them. I think I'll do 1 for each district or if it's a pretty big moment for the character. Just put it in the reviews. Update soon. **

* * *

**Alliances **

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrys Wolfe, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Solana Ennis, Drake Ru

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Ash di Angelo-Minsto, Mica Lee

**Loners**

Reign King, Acer Chriss, John Burr, Sequoia Carsyn, Jaeger Primrose, Harlene Cross, Blaze Morrison, Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold, Avis Byrd


	19. Chapter 19- Private Sessions

**Hi... So I'm back. I thought I posted this last week, I've had this finished since that week. Sorry. but here it is**

**so I ended up with a higher word count than I had expected for this chapter. I had started writing the Private Sessions, but ended up only writing about half that I wanted to, then cutting that half in half you get this, just to give you the idea . But, I hope you enjoy it. There is some backstory in this chapter, for one character at least, and just some quick updates of the morning beforehand and then the actual assessments. Enjoy.**

**Oh, and I'm writing another personal story right now, and it uses pretty old style speech patterns, so sorry if I slip into that for no reason, do my best not to but I'm not very good at keeping consistency. **

**Chapter 19- training day 3 morning and private sessions**

POVs- Jean Hughes (D8M), Acer Chriss (D3M), Celestyn Scoles (D1F), Chrysanthe Wolfe (D4F), Sequoia Carsyn (D7F), Blaze Morrison (D9M), Abilene Ackerman (D11F)

**Jean Hughes, D8M:**

The conversation taking place beside me was rather enjoyable to listen in on. Then again, I can't really call it something so civilized as a conversation. More like a shout contest. Bullshit and all.

"What did you say to me?" the girl from 7 was shouting, the dark haired Sequoia Carsyn. She obviously liked being loud, which was what everyone in the room was quick to learn.

"You heard me," Blaze Morrison was smiling, the same guy that had been punching the life out of an inanimate object yesterday. Picking fights. This would be good.

"Yeah I did. I heard you insulting me. And you know what? Screw you, idiot." the ordeal garnered the entire rooms collection. Even Rusty was watching, a bemused smile crossing that scarred face of her. It was because of her that I now found myself an ally. I just hoped it wouldn't get me a knife in the back. What can I say?- Rusty Steele seems the sort to do that.

"You better watch yourself, 9. I'm going to kill you. You're first on my list," Sequoia Carsyn stormed away, leaving her long blade end up stabbed into the table to her right. She was either a large contender, or she would get herself killed first. Either way, I would see one of those faces lighting up a bleak night sky.

**Acer Chriss, D3M: **

The bow felt good in my hands. A silver arrow released and sticking into the red painted circle. Just off the center of the dummy board's heart. Still a fatal kill. Just a little slower one. More messy. Something still too good for Mute. she would get everything back. First with a scar like mine, drawn with a dull blade and a tender hand. Mine wouldn't be so tender. Then a knife in her solar plexus. Bleeding out, slowly. Just like Ariadne. When I had seen her stabbed and mutilated, right in front of me. The worst part was, the stupid Mute wouldn't even own up to it. I was back there again, 12 years old again. I could still hear her ragged breathing, see her clothes stiff with blood. The metallic smell all around us.

Another arrow made its way into another target, this time making its was right through the board, right through the heart. I smiled, imagining the board was an actual human body. A body falling to the ground, rich red blood, stiff clothing.

The last arrow met its mark just in time for the announcement to sound. Lunch time. Oh, joy. Then the individual assessments. I would only have to wait an hour before it came my turn. Then Mute's. What would she do? She can't do anything, even the strike she had taken my face had been an accident. The scar suited me, reminded me of everything I needed to make up for. Ariadne. Myself. Even Mute's own mother died for the disabled. My mother had been a sort of midwife, an odd job for someone working in the technology distributor that was 3. All the same, she told me how the girl's mother died.

As I worked away at my roll the first name was called, the boy from 1. One out of the 23 bodies that was surely to be sent back to their districts in boxes. I'm not sure who will win, and I don't even need it to be me. As long as Mute gets what she deserves, I'm fine if I'm the second to go. After her, of course. I need to see that stupid face in the sky. The one that looked so much like Ariadne. Same dark hair and offset green eyes. A pretty face that would soon see just how cruel a knife can be.

**Celestyn Scoles, D1F: **

I waited for the first name to be called. When it was and the guy disappeared into the training room I then was forced to wait again for the second name to be called my name. My name.

"Celestyn Scoles, District 1, please report for individual assessment."

I smile, giving Mars and Chrysanthe, who were sitting a little too close for comfort, one of my many smiles. Amber- oh I mean _Rusty-_ just glared at me as I walked into the room.

All eyes were on me, and I gave them only a quick glance as I stepped into the weaponry area. Each one was odder than the next. A man with blue hair and eyes like a cat. A woman with tiger stripes lining her skin. A man with long eyelashes and skin dyed entirely pink. A dark skinned woman sitting at the forefront of them all. The head gamemaker. Anala Syris. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, face devoid of almost all cosmetics, unlike all her comrades. Steel eyes were cold and fixed to my back as I grabbed the first blade. A delicate silver number with a curved edge. Wickedly sharp. Beautiful. I use it slowly at first, waving it in the air so that light is reflected in a million different directions. Then the blade comes singing to a stop inside the dummy closest to me. I peeked over to see I truly had their attention now. I pulled it back to me, slicing the head of the cloth dummy off the rest of it with a smooth swipe. Before it hit the ground it was parted in two again. Then 3. An arm sliced off, then another. The padded dummy soon fell away to nothing more than a post, a chopped up bodily intimidation spreading over the floor around me.

Then next dummy got a sword hilt in its head. Another got the entirety of a torso on the floor. I would have continued obliterating all of the dummies, but 15 minutes was not a lot of time. The buzzer rang, and I left the silver weapon hilt deep through one of the few in damaged targets. Turning back, I gave a wide smile to the gamemakers box, where all eyes were still very aware of my presence. Filing it of the room I kept the smile on. It stayed on until I got to my room, where I slid off my face. It's been a long day, and it's barely 2 in the afternoon. I was confronted by Cyrus Loket the second I was through the door, demanding an update from me. He didn't care much for Reign, didn't want to waste his time in a reaped tribute that he had he feeling wasn't going to win. The truth is he wasn't. The title Victor would belong to me, that's why I volunteer, right? His smile proved that he was pleased. He led me down the hall, to the siting area where in a few hours my score would be revealed.

"How did they react? Did they like you?" I shrugged, the smile coming back as I thought of the small smiles on the faces of those fixed on me and my task,

"Impressed. Interested. Think they liked me."

After explaining what I had done, exactly what he had advised, he gave a short chuckle before clapping me on the back,

"With that, I'm sure you'll get an 8 at least."

Reign was already in the room, watching last years games, and I sat down beside him, watching the recap and commentary. Seeing the brothers and sisters all slain together. The victor was Kai Hart, District 4. I had known the younger brother from our District, Jem Willson. He wasn't all that nice. That being said, I had still hoped he come out with a box. My hopes were crushed when the two simple wood boxes came back not a week later.

**Chrysanthe Wolfe, D4F:**

Amber Steele was too close for comfort. I could finally breathe again when she had left the room. Then it was the pair from 3, each one looking fairly nervous. Then Mars left, and I would never say it out loud, but I felt kind of sad. He was the closest thing I had to a friend here. Everyone else was planning on killing me. Sure, he wanted me dead but he couldn't kill me. District loyalty and all that. A very meta thought for someone to have, but a very true one.

"Chrysanthe Wolfe, please report for individual assessment," the cool female voice devoid of all emotion coaxed me into the gym once more. For the last time. My time ticked down as I stepped out. Weapons were the way to go, even if I had been focusing on fire starting, knots and all the other things I had never gotten the chance to learn back home. Working with dad had always kept me busy, then the academy began training me for these very games and I hardly had time for anything but sleep, training and working the fish shop. The first day I had been at said academy I had gotten my scar. My mark, my most recognizable feature. The gamemakers knew who I was the minute I stepped out. Looks like Darius Brande had done something right.

I stepped out onto the mat, my head in the wrong match.

_Darius was the same age as me, but he had had 3 years more experience. Thus which she used against me the first time I as actually holding a knife, _

"_Bringing a knife to a sword fight? Bad move, Wolfe." he attacked with vicious attack, more my namesake than I am. Wolf-like. His blade was too sharp, not one of the blunted ones we were supposed to train with. I wanted to say something, but I was too focused on the blade swinging at my head. Block, bloke, evade. I can't get caught. _

It was quickly over, a match that was won even as distracted as I was. I moved onto another one of the versatility of knives, which since I was 13 I've gotten pretty good with all types and varieties.

_A final blow came, hard and fast. A downward strike, right over my eye. The stinging pain was unimaginable, but I didn't scream. I couldn't. Clutching my hands over my eyes, I dropped the knife to the floor. It landed less than an inch from my foot. _

Since then, my scar had healed nicely, certainly not blinding me, not in the least.

…

I think I did alright. Maybe not the best, definitely room for improvement but I could have done a whole lot worse.

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F: **

The scimitar felt good in my hands. I knew I was probably one of the countless people that would be fighting one of the assistants today. That fact alone, along with the fact that Circe Dare would no doubt want to make me stand out, do something original, made me want to do it more. Everything that insufferable know-it-all said made me feel the intense urge to do the exact opposite, but that was true for anyone I guess. Circe wasn't all that special, aside from the fact that he murdered majority of his pool at the age of 15. That just made him a monster. Much like that idiot from 9. First on a list with 22 other name. Rage drives me.

I fought with certainty, as though I had had the weapon at my side for years compared to days. When the fight was done, I bowed off the mat, sweat already dripping down my back, but the adrenaline was flowing and I was just getting started. Or just finishing, apparently. I had 5 minutes left. So I figured I might as well go to the edible plants test, boost a moderate score to something impressive. I've picked up too many things on the streets. Oh, if only that sad impersonation of a father could see me now. I could pass this with flying colors.

Or maybe I couldn't. 80. I got 20 percent wrong. How had this happened? This was my thing, the only thing had ever known back home, not since I was 11. The streets were my place, survival. Oh, God. Now I only look stupid, lowering my score for sure. I can almost picture that vindictive face, mocking a measly 4 or 5. Maybe I'd be the one called an idiot next. Wouldn't surprise me. That just meant I would need to do something else even better. But then the buzzer rang. Oh, crap. Disgruntled, I left. Hopefully the scimitar earns me something high enough. I walked out feeling annoyed, with everything. Most importantly myself.

**Blaze Morrison, D9M:**

When my name was called I already knew what I wanted to do. From the second the clock with 15 minutes started ticking down I requested an assistant to fight. Just like back home, feeling the violent and chaotic energy flow through me was a wake up call. So I swung first. The assistant, widely built man with cool eyes and black hair, was better than those back home but that just meant a better fight. Again and again, harder and harder, I struck. He blocked, I faked he moved. Then I finally saw my opening. His nose was already running with the smallest trickle of blood, but I was lusting for more. His eyes were watering with the blow. His blinking seconds drew longer, and his eyes were fighting to keep open. A strong bow to tie jaw and he was down. My foot was in his stomach, he rolled over groaning with pain. Unfortunately for him, it was the perfect position for me to land a kick to his face.

He was surely I conscious now, but I was nowhere near down. Vaguely, I think I might have heard the buzzer sound, telling me that my time was up. By his wasn't. Exhilarated, I'm ready to go. Keep punching and kicking until I break his skin and mine. I think there's blood on my shoes. Blood is definitely everywhere on the floor, all around us, he was in a pool of it, and hit was coming beautifully from his mouth, his nose, his cheek where I had skimmed him too forcefully, digging nails into flesh. I felt a hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me back, but I just threw a hard elbow, knocking me loose. Then a stinging bolt of electricity was shot through my back. Then it flowed through my entire body. I slide to the ground in a shocked daze. Consciousness left me.

**Abilene Ackerman, D11F: **

I was running before I even got into the training room again. I sprinted around the floor, fully aware of the 15 minutes ticking down. I had been a wreck in the lunchroom, with only Winstead holding me together. With a tight turn around the corner, my legs burning as I reach the next one, sliding smoothly away from the wall as I dodged the punching bags lining the wall. One lap. Then two. Just like back home. I needed to speed up, if I were home now, Winstead would be passing me. Pushing on the speed. I turn the second lap. I keep going, head spinning. Run, run, run.

Burning legs. I keep pushing myself harder and harder. The 15 minutes I had soon turned into 10. Then 5. This was more than I had ever run, faster at least. The world around me was shaking as my feet hit the ground. Keep going. Don't stop. I had mostly likely run 3 miles, if not over. It was easier to forget, push myself until I snapped, as to not deal with _the Hunger Games, _my own imminent death. Winstead's death.

The buzzer finally went, and I ran right out of the room. I could feel my insides turning as I sprinted all the way to the elevator. The glass all around me was closing me in, my chest wasn't taking in breath. Hyperventilating. Spinning room. Walls closing in around me. When the doors finally opened I spill out, nearly letting all the food that I had eaten today spill out in a less than flattering way. Sprinting all the way to the bathroom down the large hallway. The heat was too much, and I finally understood how Winstead felt. How id he never thrown up?

The sight that anyone who came into the room would witness wouldn't be a pretty one. A sweat-soaked girl vomiting all the food she was consumed over the past day, which was quite a lot thanks to the grandeur of the Capitol. Sick to my stomach, I was too focused on the gag reflex to notice someone pulling back my hair. Winstead's voice suddenly came into fruition, soft words and an even softer tone. But tears were still streaming down my face, sweat in my hair, all breath refusing to take hold in my lungs.

"It's okay, Abilene. You're okay. We'll be okay," lies. We'll never be okay again. 3 days from now we might as well be dead. That was what had motivated the episode in the gymnasium, kept me running. Then the heat and the emotions came over me and I was dealing with this now. My eye we open but not seeing, so when I felt a cool glass shoved into my hand, I was sure that Winstead had his usual genuine expression. A face too kind for these blood games. It made me sob harder, and the glass shook in my hand, water spilling over onto my clenched hand.

**So... Good? Bad? Any changed opinions? Next chapter is going to be what happens the after the scores are announced (Kind of reactions but not from everyone or every district), but for the next chapter, do you want to see the interview prep next chapter or get straight into the interviews? **

* * *

**Individual Assessments- Notes**

D1

Celestyn Scoles

What they show the game makers: skill with long swords. Completely destroyed 3 of the training targets with her blade.

Score: **8**

Reign King

What they show the game makers: threw a dozen knives. 3 stuck, but in the wrong targets

Score: **5**

D2

Amber Steele

What they show the game makers: double swords and just weaponry in general

Score: **10**

Jasper Knopp

What they show the game makers: hand to hand combat, very successful

Score: **9**

D3

Athena Lightes

What they show the game makers: did nearly nothing. Hardly tried to anything at all. Surely the thinking behind it was she already had a disadvantage, why not make herself even less of a threat.

Score: **3**

Acer Chriss

What they show the game makers: anger is a great motivator. He used it to shoot a notched silver bow and arrow, one he had been training with the entirety of training, right through the centre of 4 different bullseye

Score: **7**

D4

Chrysanthe Wolfe

What they show the game makers: a knife fight with an assistant. Melee weapons

Score: **9**

Mars Marker

What they show the game makers: trident work

Score: **8**

D5

Lillith Sparks

What they show the game makers: knives were where it was at. After the _incident,_ she made a point of knowing how to defend herself

Score: **7**

Drake Ru:

What they show the game makers: survival skills. Successfully lit a fire in under 5 minutes, proceeded to then differentiate between poisoned and clean water.

Score: **6**

D6

Solana Ennis:

What they show the game makers: oddly similar to Drake Ru's performance. Survival skills gained during training. Edible foods and decontaminating water

Score: **5**

John Burr

What they show the game makers: skills with knives, any and all types

Score: **8**

D7

Sequoia Carsyn:

What they show the game makers: work with her scimitar, which she has managed to use like an extension of her arm

Score: **8**

Jaeger Primrose:

What they show the game makers: tries (and fails) to win a sword fight, very unimpressive and downright laughable

Score: **2**

D8

Harlene Cross:

What they show the game makers: nothing, tries to do some adjility training and and survival skills but her heart isn't in it

Score: **3**

Jean Hughes

What they show the game makers: tied a noose and hung one dummy by its foot, the other.

Score: **7**

D9

Mica Lee

What they show the game makers: her ability with poisons and decontamination. Nothing all that special where the gamemakers were concerned

Score: **5**

Blaze Morrison

What they showed the gamemakers: beat an assistant to a pulp. When he was done the man didn't get back up. No pulse. Needed a bodybag, whihc was rather inconvenient, but the gamemakers want a good show. Bloodshed

Score: **11**

D10

Dawn Night

What they show the game makers: archery and food knowledge.

Score: **6**

Jovanni Gold

What they show the game makers: skill with spears and trident, gained over the course of training, his brute strength.

Score: **6**

D11

Abilene Ackerman:

What they show the game makers: running almost 3 miles in her 15 minutes.

Score: **8**

Winstead Cress Dale

What they show the game makers: knife throwing. Sprints.

Score: **8**

D12

Avis Byrd

What they show the game makers: quick, tree climbing, skills gained somewhere outside of the training facility

Score: **5**

Ash di Angelo:

What they show the game makers: throwing knives, bullseyes every time

Score: **7**

* * *

Recap of scores

1: n/a

2: Jaeger Primrose

3: Athena Lightes, Harlene Cross

4: Reign King

5: Solana Ennis, Mica Lee, Avis Byrd

6: Drake Ru, Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold,

7: Acer Chriss, Lillith Sparks, Jean Hughes, Ash di Angelo,

8: Celestyn Scoles, Mars Marker, Sequoia Carsyn, Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

9: Jasper Knopp, Chrysanthe Wolfe

10: Rusty Steele,

11: Blaze Morrison

12: n/a

* * *

**Alliances**

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrys Wolfe, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Solana Ennis, Drake Ru

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Ash di Angelo-Minsto, Mica Lee

**Loners**

Reign King, Acer Chriss, John Burr, Sequoia Carsyn, Jaeger Primrose, Harlene Cross, Blaze Morrison, Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold, Avis Byrd


	20. Chapter 20- reactions

**So as I promised, here's the actual ranking list. If you want to reason for any of these please PM me and I'll be happy to explain. **

**1: n/a**

**2: Jaeger Primrose, Harlene Cross**

**3: Athena Lightes**

**4: Reign King, Mica Lee**

**5: Solana Ennis, Avis Byrd****6: Drake Ru, Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold,**

**7: Acer Chriss, Lillith Sparks, Jean Hughes, Ash di Angelo, Winstead Dale**

**8: Mars Marker, Sequoia Carsyn, Abilene Ackerman**

**9: Chrysanthe Wolfe, Celestyn Scoles**

**10: Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp**

**11: Blaze Morrison**

**12: n/a**

**Chapter 20- reaction and prep**

POVs: Reign King (D1M), Rusty Steele (D2F), Athena Lightes (D3F), Mars Marker (D4M), Drake RU (D5M),

**Reign King, D1M:**

"Welcome, welcome," the tv personality of Rexa Corsan never ceases to amaze me. So full of life and energetic, even talking about the murder of children,

"I'm pleased that everyone is able to watch the training score's he announced live," Yeah, because the hunger games were mandatory. No one could _not _watch. It might even be considered treason. Not that any of the families back home would not want to see it. People salivated for the murderous triumphs that come with the word Victor. My score was first. I just hope it would be a good one.

Please, just let it be a 6. Maybe even a 7, I'm not picky.

"Let's begin," the pink haired woman was careful not to tilt her head down too far, since the wig placed in her head would no doubt tip right off.

"District 1's Reign King," my time, "with an well rounded score of… 5." I let out a breath. Nearly the upper half. Nearly. But the faces around me looked disappointed, and I realized that I had failed. So what if I had missed the target, quite a few had actually landed. In the wrong target but they stuck.

I barely had time to comprehend before the next name was called,

"Celestyn Scoles, with a score of 9!" Our escort applauded carefully, and Celestyn donned a smile,

"Nice job, Scoles. If you keep that up, we might just find ourselves a victory."

Her smile was wide and real, attractive. What was she thinking about? As she was congratulated District 2 was called.

Nobody even looked my way. The silence was agonizing. Back to the anthem I come as the crusade of tributes receive there scores.

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

Jasper got a 10. The highest out of 3 scores. Please, let me get higher. I need to prove myself. I'm better than everyone here, easy. And it's not like I'm one of those narcissistic idiots running around 1, with those snobby names and glittery chariot costumes. Just calling it like it is.

"Amber Steele," I cringe away from the screen, hating the sound of my given name. Rusty was my name. Ever since Kaz has started calling me that. Not only was it my name, but it honored the deceased.

"With a score of… 10!" Tied for highest of all the current careers. I allowed myself only a small smile, keeping on the most current face. The hardened killer. A cooler exterior than I was using the past few days. A nice change. But my guard was still up, a wall around me. I'm untouchable.

"Congrats," Jasper didn't seem too happy, but I wasn't concerned with the likes of him,

"Thanks." He didn't mean it, and neither did I. I meant exactly what I said to Jean. Soon enough he'd be dead.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

Reign King, with a 5. Celestyn Scoles, 8. Jasper Knopp, 9. Amber Steele, 10. Then Acers score of 7. There is no possible way I would love up to any of them. Because I hadn't tried to. I'm already dying in these games. I'll be seen as nothing more than a poor disabled kid, of a mockery of District 3. Either way I'm coming out in a bodybag, why pretend I have a chance?

"... 3!" I try to look down, force myself to feel sad. Disappointed. It's not too hard, I can't even say I'm faking it. As much as I was expecting it a small part of me hoped for some magical and unattainable score. Acer was too far away from me to whisper one of his threats in my ear, but I could see his clenched jaw, white knuckles tearing at the chair arms they rested on.

No one was very impressed with me, and to be honest I was among them. Acer's side smile was so real, so cynical I wanted to scream. Couldn't scream. When my fingers began to shake so bad I nearly dropped the small device onto the fine floor I stood up, needing to get out of the room.

"Where are you going?" There was t an ounce of concern in his voice, in his steel eyes. Only malice. I couldn't answer. Only left the thing on the sofa, knowing it would slide out of my hand if forced to hold it, and put my hands behind my back to stop the shaking. I walked to my room, ignoring the demands of my team, telling me to come back. I just needed to get out of there. Remove myself from the sudden terror that seemed to fill me. I collapsed to the bed. Hard breaths fighting out of me, none coming back in.

…

I must have blacked out. Fell asleep. I got up, shaking the aches out of my muscles. Seeing the suns early morning glow made me realize it was the next day. I shook my head, throat feeling scratchy and almost used. The next day. 2 more days until Acer will really be trying to kill me. Really will kill me.

I hadn't the faintest idea what the scores were shaping up to be. I might have done the worst, but I could also just be middle of the pack. At least I'm no threat. There was a scent of rust hanging in the air as I crawled out of bed. Looking at my sheets, I didn't see any spots of red. Not my cycle then. Then I looked at my hand, the crescents still carved into skin. More were there. When I'm anxious I tend to claw at my wrist. Multiple thin curved lines join those out their by Acer. Joy.

The food was still incredible, though I couldn't shake the soreness in my throat. Acer's cruel smile still twisted up my insides, though the look did have a look of some emotion I couldn't quite understand. It was something that seemed foreign on his face. I might even call it fear.

**Acer Chriss, D3M:**

...Crazy mute...

**Mars Marker, D4M:**

Considering I wasn't supposed to be in these games, I did alright. An 8. Chrystal smiled beside me, her puckered scar creased as she did,

"Good job," she'd never say it, but I think that I'm growing on her. She's not as hostile as she was the first night on the train. I might even have a real ally. Then her score came.

"Chrysanthe Wolfe, with a score of 9!" I clapped her on the back,

"Nice going, Chrystal," I think she had given up on stopping the use of her nickname. A small battle, but a battle won.

I didn't realize it at first, but as the list went on, I noticed her hand had slipped covertly into mine. I looked over at her quickly, seeing the scar and her eyes fixed steadily on the monitor,

"What?" Well, she has noticed my gaze. As I spoke, she didn't look back, practically ignoring ignoring me, but her hand was still in mine,

"Nothing," yet she didn't pull her hand away. And we just sat there until he final name and score came and the closing anthem and seal over the screen. I didn't want to let go.

**Drake Ru, D5M:**

"Drake Ru! With a score of… 6," was that me? The look on our eacort's face made me believe it was. I had gotten a 6. It was better tha I was expecting, and only the third lowest out of them all so far, so that was something to feel good about, right? But then Lillith's score came. I noticed a hand placed steadily over her left arm, the one she had always seemed so hyper aware of. What was hiding there? More scars? No one knew. Not anyone one I knew at least.

"... with a score of 7!" She let out a surprised laugh, pleased with herself. Higher than usual for out district.

"Well then," she started at the screen, watching the announcer with the intensity of someone not wanting to think about anything else. Her hand dropped and I finally saw her arm. It was horrifying. Beautiful. Scratched word into flesh.

MINE

She didn't know that I had seen it. Wasn't looking at me. That night years ago. The public execution. The Sparks family disappearing behind closed doors for weeks after. Everything clicked. Yet she wasn't even paying attention to me.

When they called Solana's name I was ready to start clapping. She was nice. One of the only few kind people in this place.

"With a score of 5!" my hands came together for a brief moment, but it only sounded hollow and minuscule in the quiet room. So I stopped. I was happy.

**Chrysanthe Wolfe, D4F: **

I'm not sure who made contact first, but as the announcement came to a close, I noticed his hand in mine. It was clear he noticed it too. I felt his eyes on me, a heavy thin pressing over me. Though I wanted to keep holding on, as the anthem played I yanked it away from him. He had a girlfriend. One who would kill me, even if I did manage to get back home. Which was exactly what would, preferably, be the case. But he was nice, and funny, and called me Crystal. No! I don't like him. Can't even a little bit.

"What about your girlfriend, pretty boy?" He took up my hand again. Looking down at the space between us, the gap bridges by our once again connected hands.

"Pretty boy? You really think that?"

"Of course that's the part you go to, and not the girlfriend part," he sighed, sitting back to pull our connection taut,

"Of course. Bay is fine, but I think she'll do just fine with Malachi, Finn and Brooke," a spark of hope was lit in me, only to doused with self-doubt the next moment. How was Sea doing? The mention of all his friends made me think of my own singular one. I had hardly ever been able to talk with her, over the past few years. Not after training picked up, and when I forced myself to pull ahead of all the other girls in my year. She shouldn't be too sappy about it all, that wasn't the Sea Rosen I knew.

"Not for much longer, right?" I quoted the words back to him, thinking of how he had used them when Rusty had been too interested in us as a couple.

"Exactly. I think I might just find myself another one," the disloyalty he held for Bay should have bothered me, but I hate to say it didn't. Not one bit. If these next few days are going to be hell, I might as well enjoy them, right?

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

The game makers screwed me over. of course they put me lower on the scale. Of course I was made to look even worse since my measly 4 came right after the silence-enducing 11 from Blaze Morrison. What had he done? I knew right away. He was Blaze, after all. The guy who thrived off pain. Probably beat the living day-lights out of some poor assistant. I didn't have too much sympathy for them, but the small inkling was there.

But back to the 4. I had done my best. I wanted Rhyse not to worry, considering that he should be more concerned with his own condition at the moment. I want nothing more than for him to not watch. He couldn't handle watching me kill. Watching me die. I shook my head, thinking about what probably got my 4. shooting that peacekeeper at the reaping probably took what should have been a few places higher. Might as well have just given me a 1 and be done with it. I know what I can do, and that's all that needs to matter.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

The freak of nature, the Crow, scoring a 6. If only Jovanni hadn't gotten one too, then I might've been a little more pleased. All the same, I still didn't feel too terrible, seeing as I was almost in the upper half. Besides, no one cares about the scores. People only pay attention to the higher scores. That's what I'm hoping at least.

"Good job, Dawn," I look over to where Jovanni now stood, blocking the television from sight. I look away. The smile was still the same, even after all these years. Long after it wasn't cool to hang out with the freak,

"Just down, Gold," the hurt in his eyes was barely concealed, but I could still see it. It was the same tell, always the slight tremble in his legs, how he hid his hands in his pockets or behind his back. Pain. no matter how long ago it was, no matter how much he had hurt me, I had still never gotten used to seeing that look on his face. He did sit down, right beside me. I would have moved over, given him as wide a birth as possible, but I was already on the edge of the sofa, and I didn't want to stand up, say that he won in for my own lack of courage. So I sat there, in silence.

**I just haven't been able to write recently. Been really stressed and a bunch of other stuff. That being said, I'm not that happy with this chapter, or anything I've written in the past 2 weeks. Also, do you guys want every interview (which'll be over 3-4 chapters), or just a few important one. if it's the second, tell me who you want to see an interview from. **


	21. Chapter 21- Interviews

**Right off the bat, this isn't really a focus on the interviews. there are pieces of interviews, but I started writing this for me, and I'm going to write what I feel I write best, which is what you get here. that being said, I was have delirious with pneumonia (which can apparently be contagious, so I'm learning something new at least) while writing most of it. It had promise, and just keep that in mind. **

**Chapter 21- interviews**

POVs: Rusty Steele (D2F), Reign King (D1M), Mars Marker (D4M), Athena Lightes (D3F), Sequoia Carsyn (D7F), Blaze Morrison (D9M), Dawn Night (D10F), Lillith Sparks (D5F), Jovanni Gold (D10M)

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

I was not having this stupid Capitolite. There was no way I was wearing a dress. So when I turned around and saw what she held out for me, I was pleased to see 2 pieces, red and black, and then the shoes, the same red, with spiked heels that would raise my height to at least 2 inches taller,

"I am not wearing those," I could not get behind wobbling around on the balls of my feet. I couldn't even remember we the woman's name, just saw her gold eyeliner and over the top wig. I'm pretty sure she found me aggravating. Good.

"You have to, dear."

"Don't call me _dear_!" She sighed, throwing the pants and shirt to me. I caught both in my one hand, the other forming a fist at my side,

"Unfortunately, that's not up for decision, Steele."

I sighed, watching the woman throw the shoes aggressively to the ground, raising her hands in anger and frustration,

"I give up. Get yourself dressed. I'm done with you," Fine by me. She was even more aggravating than I am. The shoes hit the floor with a dull thud.

Examining the clothes in my grasp I was wholly amazed. Never had I held anything like this. I should feel mesmerized. I should be bewitched and fall right under the same spell that has my sisters and mother pulled into. Should. I'm better than this. This is nothing more than another act. One more group I need to make love me in order to succeed.

…

I look good, even without the help of any silly stylist. Surely she would go on about that one for the next ten years, long after I've succeeded and made myself into one of their precious victors. Maybe I'm just having a spiteful day, but I have the feeling I'm about to go through a lot of those in the near future. And all I can think is...

"Bring it on."

**Reign King, D1M: **

It was clear Celestyn would be a favourite of the crowd. Laughing at every joke. Sighing with and just all around very pleased with her. I was happy, at least that it meant the room wasn't filled with the hollow silence that would drive me mad. She was in the middle of talking about how her brother died, a boy named Onyx, when her buzzer went. I barely had time to comprehend she was talking about how someone had died, which then made me think about who in my life had died. Poor mother. She was far too good for it. She said farewell to the throngs, and then made her way off the stage. It took me a moment to realize what that meant for me. It was my turn. Mine. so I stood, legs shaking slightly. The silence infiltrating all the open space in the room. Back to humming.

Rexa Corsan was back. Now her delicate pink wig was lying straight over the same midnight dress she wore every year. She's been at this task since longer than I've been alive. Not that it shows. We're in the capitol after all.

"Why hello, Reign King. welcome," my lips went up in a nervous smile, the kind no one really means but everyone's polite enough not to point it out,

"Hi."

"How has this experience been for you? What have you enjoyed the most?" Honesty? Honesty.

"It's the newness of it all." she cocked a tattooed eye brow, the gold vines contorting,

"New? How so?" Was she joking? This is the capitol, the lush surroundings and and I'm a street rat, the only home I've ever known was was taken from me at a very young age. Too young. Might as well return the favour.

"There's this thing here that I never had access to back home. Which is, now you might this silly, just how loud it is," that drew out a laugh I wasn't expecting. I let out a quick sigh of relief. I could do this.

"Noise? That's the one most enjoyable thing you've found about this," she gave the crowd a laugh and an expression that was just as laughable, drawing an even bigger laugh from the roaring crowd. Noise, "why don't you explain."

"Nah. I've just spent a lot of lonely nights in dead silence over the years," she can't know. Know just how lonely those nights were. The amount of times I've felt like clawing my eyes out, ripping my hair out. She can't see it, then she might make me leave. I can't stand silence. I need her to talk to me. Which was exactly what she was doing now. Almost like an interview.

"Lots of lonely nights, huh? I'm assuming you don't have some lucky girl back home then," I nodded, biting my tongue. No one was waiting back home. No one even knew my name, other than knowing the last name that came with me. Not me,

"No girl for me," I shrugged, sticking my hands into the suit pocket,

"Well, I'll tell you what. When you win, you have every girl practically throwing herself at you," I've never had a friend. Surely this woman is a friend because only a friend would lie so kindly. I have no shot. But all I could do was force myself to smile,

"One can hope."

"Well, tell me about yourself, Reign. What do you have to win?" what do I have to win? Even I don't have an answer to that. So I take a silent moment, and the quiet holds me under, and I start wanting to scream. Just talk, I demand myself, just something. But now the noise was too much. Millions seem be screaming in my ears. The space seemed to be closing into me,

"I'm a runner. You'll find that running away from your problems will solve quite a few of them. Especially if your problems are people with knives and the intentions of killing you," the laugh she gave now was honest, real. I had surprised it out of her. It was a laugh that was so real, if I kept her laughing she would start snorting.

"Well, I certainly believe you will be a force to be reckoned with, Reign King," I smiled at her, a smile as honest as hers, she seemed like a nice lady,

"Why thank you. I really appreciate it."

"I had the feeling you would. Now," the small humanity I had just saw, slipped away. She was all business now, "how do you feel about that 4? I'm sure that you were expecting something higher," of course. The silent clock ticking down my time suddenly came to forefront of my mind. Only seconds left for me. A ticking landmine,

"I've always been underestimated. This is no different." in the time it took me to say it, the buzzer went. As I said goodbye, waved to her, and the people hoarding the stands, I felt my panic ensue. Not this again. I am so tired of this.

The racing pulse. Walls closing in on me. Breath stolen from my lungs. Gripping at my chest the moment I was off that stage, knees hitting the hard ground with painful realization. _He's coming._ No matter how hard I demand it, no matter how hard I tried. Seconds dragged on. They turned minutes. Minutes seemed like hours. I spent an eternity there, thinking of that moment. I was 11 all over again. A man, blatantly hitting my mother. Killing her. Draining the life from her, blow by blow. Then he turned on me. It wasn't her fault. Oh it wasn't her fault. It wasn't either of our faults that I was born. That some crazy man knocked her up and she gave birth.

I can still hear the screaming.

I hate screaming.

**Mars Marker, D4M:**

The pair from one were alright. The poor guy that was reaped into this and wanted no part off, actually did alright. People seemed to like him well enough. He was perhaps the only smart one of the careers this year. Avoiding all of us. The worst competition. Then he had to be led off stage because he was practically screaming and sobbing about some dead mother. My sympathies went out to the guy. I would have to keep my eye on Rusty. Easy enough, I've been doing it since the beginning of training. Just outlive her. I know I can trust the others. At least for the time being.

But now her name was being called, and she walked up to the stage, her long snake like braid coming around to tap her hip. The smile in her lips was unmistakably animalistic. Murderous. Her tapestry of scars on full display.

"Why hello there, miss Amber. Oh my, don't you look ravishing?" Rusty just gave her grin, words slick and barely masking what was clear on her face. Her eyes flicked down to her clothes, the red shirt holding tight to her body, pants showing off the strong muscles in her legs. The shoes made the only thing that wasn't completely incredible about her, being slightly shorter than all the others in our group.

"The names Rusty, Rexa, and don't you forget it. You'll be hearing it for quite a while," comedy was Corsan's strong suit,

"Oh my. I like a girl with confidence. It screams victor, if you know what I'm saying,"

"I know exactly what your saying," their _girl-time _seemed oddly intimate. No matter what words passed between them, Rusty seemed to hold a connection with Corsan. Or maybe it was just fabricated. Just like everything else I had seen Amber Steele do,

"Why Rusty?" she laughed, flicking the snaking braid of faint red over her shoulder. It was her way of answering, and when Corsan finally realized it, she laughed, "Oh! I get it. That's a real clever one," Rusty shrugged. Then it hit me. No one had ever asked why it was her nickname, why she preferred it over Amber. There might have even been a story behind it.

"And I must say, you look incredible, Rusty," as much as I hated to admit it, she did. The complete triple threat. The brains. The looks. The killer. Because she is a killer, most certainly. If she hasn't done it yet, she will soon. Long as it's not me.

She smiled, looking down at the red and black of her outfit,

"What can I say? I outgrew dresses a long time ago, glad that my stylists finally realized it too," if only she had stayed in the dresses. Then I might have not been so wary of her.

"Yes, you certainly have. Now, tell me, how ready are you for these games?" her smile was nothing more than a mask,

"I've been preparing since the age of 8, so what do you think?" answering with a question, smart. She leaned in. then, like she was telling a precious secret, as if no one else should be able to hear. All the cameras zoomed in on her face. It was no secret, and she knew it.

"I am fully capable of doing everything that is necessary for success." everyone knows she is. As a leader myself, it was always hard to see her anything more than an adversary, which is still true, but she was also the person in the group everyone else respected. An obvious person to rally behind. I've noticed I might have been reaped, but I have just as much skill as anyone else in the pack. I'm the one who deserves to be alpha, and that's just honesty.

…

Just a few minutes before this, while holding Crystal's hand of course, I was surveying how the others looked. Crystal had noticed,

"What are you looking for, Mars?" I looked at her as I answered,

"The prettiest girl in the room," and I am nothing more than an honest man. Certainly. Her outfit was simple. An unembellished white dress, and shoes that added no height to her already tall stature she didn't need anything to distract from her face.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Definitely. But that doesn't mean it's not true."

**Athena Lightes, D3F: **

I still clutched the device in my hands. On stage, I had even dropped it. It had clatter with the sound of a technological fail, like when the motherboards and circuitry back in the factories had a faulty wire and someone had the misfortune of making sparks fly. It seemed deafening. The Rexa Corsan just shook it off, and I tried to do the same. The interview was tedious. It wasn't even an interview. It was the millionth time I cursed who I was, what I am. All throughout the 3 minutes, I had tried to do anything but make eye contact, with anyone. Typing in the words, only for Rexa to read them off. A conversation with herself. She had looked so uncomfortable, and I knew I was already dead. No one would sponsor me, not even out of pity. If not even Corsan, who has made the most messed up tributes seem likable and viable options for success. She just stared at me open mouthed.

But now I was able to watch, far from the cameras. No one watching me. At least, that's what I thought. When the hand on my knee was placed there, so carefully, I nearly screamed. Then I remembered that wasn't exactly a realistic scenario. It was Acer. he wasn't looking at me, eyes still fixed intently on Lillith,

"You can tell me," his eyes showed all that rage, even when he wasn't looking at me. The rage wasn't even at me, it was at my father. That murderous rage he had intended for me that he had taken out on Ariadne and, by extension, Acer.

Finally, those cold grey eyes made their way to mine, that surely looked like some poor doe's. He laughed right in my face. Usually he wasn't this scary. But it was something about the darkness, the quiet brutality that made my skin scream everywhere he touched. He's going to kill me. Right now, he'll strike me dead and no one will care.

What did he want me to tell him? For whatever it was, it was the cruelest thing of it all, just that one word that I would never able to live up to. Tell. use your words and spit it out, stupid Mute.

"Come on. I can keep a secret," he really was crazy. I mouthed a single word to him. What? He just chuckled again, ignoring Lillith's talk of how this was a unique experience for her, rather than a joyous one. He didn't seem understand my confusion,

"Don't play dumb, Mute. or are you? What are you hiding Mute?" he leaned even closer, the hand turned into claws, "Oh, right. I know what you're hiding. But I'm talking about something else. Just talk to me, I know you can do it," the words hit me like fists. He's insane. It's the only thing getting me through this.

One thought

One truth

One death

"I heard you. You talked to me."

It took me a moment to understand what he was saying. I was wondering when, and more importantly, why he'd make something like that up. It's a new level of cruel, even for Acer. I just shook my head, hoping that the claws would let me go. Eventually, I realized that hot tears were falling. I wiped them away quickly, moving my knee so his hand fell away from me. Breath. I missed that.

"Suit yourself. Maybe I'll get something out of you before I kill you."

There's this sense of terror he puts into me. I've never gotten over him, but in a way that's as opposite to romantic as one can get.

**Sequoia Carsyn,**** D7F:**

The interview was uneventful. For me, at least. Hardly talking, keeping up the air of mystery that Circe had decided was my best bet. Just too hostile and aggressive for anything else to work I guess. But people to like me, or at least not completely hate me, so I was distinctly unhappy. If they liked something I did, then whatever I did was wrong. But now it was Jaeger's turn, and it was so laughable I almost burst out with the sounds of joy for something less amusing. He was so sure of himself, even after Circe tore him to shreds yesterday over dinner. I won't go into detail, but the phrases "useless pretty boy" and "good for nothing that will get himself killed" were definitely thrown around. Among some other things. But there he was, sitting on that stage wearing a suit that matched the dress that I wore. So green that it nearly appeared black.

"How likely are you to go home, victorious?" Rexa asked, leaning in, waiting for an answer. The one she got was… undeniably speaking of Jaeger's character,

"100% sure," Rexa smiled,

"I like confidence."

"I would go higher if I could. I know I'm the victor of these games, it's just a matter of time," he seemed so serious, but no one could take him so.

**Blaze Morrison, D9M:**

We were a minute into the interview. Sure, I was supposed to be pleasing m mentor, be all silent badass or whatever. But this is just... less silent, and more me.

"How are you feeling, Blaze?" I could feel how much contempt this woman held for me. I returned, multiplied by infinite lengths.

"You know, I'm actually pretty pissed," violent energy is roaring through me. Two hands with split knuckles hiding in my pockets.

"Pissed? How so?" she inched as far away she could without fleeing to the other side of the stage. Might as well take some inspiration from Jean.

"You do this, put us all in pretty outfits, pretend to love us, only to go and force each other to kill one another. And don't get me wrong, I am full well willing to embrace that, but I won't be forced. Screw you. Screw the capitol," I walked off with almost the entire interview left undone.

Damn, that felt good. Almost as good as beating the crap out of people. She was so confused, her little world was crashing in around her, because of that one tribute in the 126th hunger games. The adrenaline rush was a perfect replica of any punch I've ever thrown.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

I could almost forget the past few years. The way he was looking at me, the friendship I had once had in him…

Corsan's eyes were on me, and eventually I began to understand that all the eyes of the entire city and possibly the entire country were fixed on me too.

"I'm sorry, what?" great, now I was annoying. Rexa Corsan laughed, crinkling the face she keeps looking so fake.

"I asked why you volunteered, Dear." well, the answer to that is simple,

"Sue was, is, my best friend. And I just couldn't stand her going here without me," it was the only thing I was serious about. I love her, as more than as just her best friend. Maybe it was cruel to force her to watch me live out our nightmare, but it was much better than forcing me to watch her,

"Well, you are certainly an incredible friend," the moment I thanked her, the buzzer went. My time here was done, I could finally breathe. Next up, Jovanni.

"Hey there, Rexa. You're looking radiant tonight, same as ever," his flirting made me want to gag. The woman was at least 15 years his senior,

"Oh, why thank you. Now, tell me about yourself. What is there to know about Jovanni Gold?"

As the interview went on, as his words seemed more and more honest, the boy that was still somewhere underneath the facade Jovanni Gold was ruled by. He surely couldn't me any of it. Not the Jovanni I have been faced with the past few years. But it was one thing that stuck with me, one sentence he has spoken years ago. The last thing he said to me before it became _the thing_ to make my life a living hell, just because I'm "different". He spoke the same sentence now, eyes digging into me. He had so much more intensity now, 2 years later. We were forced to grow up so quickly now.

All throughout the interview, he spoke about his sister, how she had died of an incurable disease years ago. I could remember comforting him at the funeral, that was only days before he turned on me. He made everyone love him, and as much as I hated myself for it, no matter how many times I reminded myself what he's done to me, I can't help but see my friend on that stage,

"Dawn and I were actually really good friends once," Rexa jumped at the chance of gossip,

"really? she didn't mention anything about that," no, all I had mentioned was that there are currently 23 names on my kill list, which unfortunately meant Jovanni's was on there too. He only donned a sad smile,

"No, I doubt she would've. We had a falling out." _remember who he is. The liar, the boy who turned on you just to remain on top. But he was good once. _

"I actually love her..." I heard quiet gasps of surprise light up the crowd like wildfire. He realized right away what he had said, and it only took me a few moments to realize what he said too,

"well, I mean doesn't everyone?"

"Oh, crap," I muttered. He really meant it. He really wanted to make amends.

...

We were 12. Sitting in my quiet room, avoiding everyone else in the world as far as we were concerned.

"There's this girl, right? I think I'm in love with her, and I'm terrified-" he cut himself off, his eyes still completely focused on me

I had thought he was talking about Sue. everyone loved her, but now… he said the same thing now. Looking at me.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F: **

The elevator was disturbingly empty. It was just me and the guy from 3, the one Athena seemed terrified of. He was leering at me with a disturbing grin, all but extended with the long white scar running from near his mouth to his brow. It made his grin all unbalanced and unsettling. He noticed my eyes on him, more specifically on his scar,

"Like it?" he turned his head so I could get a better angle. I turned away,

"You know, I like yours too. They're very… intriguing."

Don't answer. Just look away, don't answer. When the response he was waiting for didn't come, he just went right on talking,

"I'll tell you about mine. I got it from the Mute. you two are allies, right?" I nodded, numbly. Keep quiet. His smile turned slightly sad, only to be replaced with a crazy rage behind his eyes, and in the gritted teeth and clenched jaw,

"You shouldn't trust her. She'll probably betray you the second you get in there. She's crazy. She'll kill you," he had piqued my interest,

"What makes you so sure?" he scoffed,

"Because she's done it before. She's a liar and a cheat, and to be honest, I think she's faking the whole mute thing," a dark glower was on his face now. Oh, it was taking forever to reach the third floor. I just needed him to leave me alone. And why was no one else in the elevator with us?

"I'll keep that in mind," my response was dry. Of course I didn't believe him, but I just needed to disengage.

"I hope you will,"

The doors split open, and he waved as he walked away. _He can't hurt me. Not again._

"Oh, finally."

Time to go pretend to sleep while I imagine how I'll die a million times over. There's no doubt in my mind that whether I come home alive or not, I am certainly dying in that arena.

**Jovanni Gold, D10M:**

"Did you mean it?" Dawn had snuck up behind me, and her words made me jump. They were spoken quietly and quickly,

"Mean what?" she pushed me up against the wall, and she was just barely shorter than me,

"You know what I'm talking about," and I did.

"_I think I'm in love with her. And it is freaking terrifying." _

Realizing how close she was to me, Dawn took a step back,

"Just be honest with me," her voice was so commanding, even for her. The two braids she always wore were now dusted with glitter. Stardust in her hair.

"I'll always mean it."

She was quiet for a long moment, pacing in front of me. The only sound was our breathing and the click of her heels, finally, she stopped. Turning to face me, it seemed she had come to a conclusion,

"You and I?" she gestured between us with her hands, eyes stoney, "we don't have an alliance. Not of any kind. But if I promise not to act on that threat from training, not kill you I mean, can you do the same?" she was fully ready to turn away, start plotting to kill me, but…

I held out my hand to her, still pressed up against the cool wall. She took it in hers quickly, shaking my hand, and as soon as she did,

"Well then, I think you have yourself a deal," she turned on her heel, walking away so quickly it was like she was never there. We both knew she was lying. She certainly had an alliance, and she certainly wanted one. She had one, even if she didn't want it. For me, it's a good thing she does. Probably.

I followed her.

**I ended up with a higher word count the I was expecting. And sorry, again, for this mess of a chapter. Just remember, where the pair from 3 are concerned, somethings aren't what they seem. On the bright side, or maybe entirely morbid side that is reminiscent of death, next chapter will bring us into the arena. The bloodbath and the first deaths. I'm so excited. **

* * *

**Alliances:**

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrys Wolfe, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Solana Ennis, Drake Ru

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Mica Lee, Ash di Angelo

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold


	22. Chapter 22- The Bloodbath

Hi... so I kind of disappeared for a month. Sorry. But I'm back with a bang (I hope). Welcome to the bloodbath. Just a reminder, Anything put into your syot submissions was just suggestions. I absolutely hated killing off (most of) these characters. Each one could have been the victor in my eyes. It took me a long time to figure this out, and I was mostly settled on this set of deaths. I'm so sorry if I kill off your character, but only 1 out of 24 can survive.

Also, I'd like to thank everyone for making it this far. Each comment I read makes me so happy. I've even seen some comments from readers who haven't submitted. So I'd just like to thank everyone a thousand times over. And I apologize for that little break. It was a combination of not being happy with what I wrote, and just having a really full/draining month.

Now, let the games begin

Chapter 22- Day 1- Bloodbath

Harlene Cross, D8F:

I'm about to die. I know it. I'm dead already, no point in anything. It's all just a matter of doing right by Father. Show him that I'm strong enough not to engage. I'm not a pawn in this game, I'm not anything at all. The least memorable, small girl from an outer district. Indie will be pissed. Heath, no matter how snippy he could be, would surely be devastated. I could feel the whisper of Dalton's lips. Something that hasn't faded for the days since.

I imagined my death a million times over through the night, to the point when I thought that I surely must be dead already. Apparently not, because when morning came I was still in the Capitol room. The rest of the morning passed in a blur of sounds. Or lack thereof. Breakfast was silent, and though my stomach was nothing more than a pit of nerves, I could barely get anything down. Or maybe I just knew anything that went down would come back up. Either way, my stomach was tied up in knots, refusing anything. The games would start early afternoon, which was a different launch time than regular, but a launch all the same.

Then I was frozen alive, dead where I stood as an aircraft pulled me up, when a woman injected a useless tracker into my arm. The sting of the needle and the dull throb were a constant reminder. But pain was a way of distracting myself. Pressing down on the spot until it bruised, I did my best to think of anything else as we approached the launch area. It failed.

Death was the only thing on my mind

It seemed only seconds later that I was in the clothes that everyone would be wearing. Grey pants with various pockets, a dark green shirt and thin jacket over top. Boots with flexible soles that would be good to run in, though I wouldn't even be walking in it.

I was offered lunch of breads, cheeses, and meets, along with everything else that could be found only in the Capitol.

Then the call came. I stepped into the tube. It was a simple list, waiting for the time when I could displease the Capitol.

I closed my eyes the moment I stepped in, feeling myself and the platform go up the plastic tube. Then the air on my face. Gentle wind barely tickling my face and definitely not moving my braid. I pulled it over my shoulder, clenching it like a rope, as if it would save my life. Nothing can do that.

60

59

58

The numbers kept getting smaller and smaller. Soon enough it was 30. Then 20. The entire time I was gathering courage, inching slowly towards the edge. Refusing to open my eyes. 10. Now or never. So I take my final step. It's only a foot to the ground. Dad would be so proud of me…

My world erupts in a fiery blast of death

Jean Hughes, D8M:

The surroundings were overly simple. The large cornucopia in the middle of the grassy clearing. Behind it lay large pond, duckweeds sticking out in small clusters. The glassy water led off to multiple small streams, going in every direction. One ran through the space between me and the next pedestal, where the D1 girl stood, eyes flicking all around. Behind me was two very different landscapes, merging in the middle.

To my left was a thick forest, spreading across half of the arena. The normal, expected, and utteringly uninteresting. But then I turned my head. The scene of utter destruction that lay to my right was breathtaking. It resembled the ruins of district 13, white stone slabs cracked and spread in heaps. It seemed as though the dust had just settled moments ago. You would never be found among the rubble. A good way to go if you didn't want to be followed, but there was a good reason for that. Only a single steam ran that way, and wouldn't be a good place to try and survive. Then my district partner jumped.

We all heard it, all saw it. It was disgusting. I rambled off a series of curses that would make even Mr. Hughes shake. Moments later I was running to the cornucopia, avoiding the main throngs. So I grabbed as much as I could, a backpack, a coil of rope seemingly set out especially for me.

In and out in what couldn't have been more than a minute, but time stretched and it seemed to take forever to escape the fighting. I was silently calling myself chicken, but better to live and fight another day, right?

I was al let in the trees when I saw an opportunity I couldn't bypass. A back turned to me, no weapons I could see. Might as well get myself a kill, hopefully earn some sponsors. I wrapped the rope around his throat. Tighter and tighter. He fell limp. I ran them, remembering a quiet conversation with Rusty a few days earlier.

_"Get away from the fighting. I don't need you dying. I'll get the careers away from the cornucopia and then get rid of them. Meet me back st the cornucopia by the third night." _

Maybe it's stupid, but it's as good a plan as any. So I run. Not too far but just far enough to be out of sight.

Dawn Night, D10F;

I still don't know what to think of Jovanni. My mind and heart each sway different directions. You can't trust him, he'll only shun you again, and this time you won't get a do-over- compared to- this is your friend. He was just a good person swayed by peer pressure. Was this friendship honest, or was he ready to see my face in the sky? But then I look at his face, even as serious as he is now his eyes still seem to be smiling. Then he looked at me and his smile was covering his whole face. Yes, it was more of a grimace, but he tried. Then he jutted his chin out in a nod towards the small river running between me and the competitor to my right. I followed the water with my eyes until I got to the merging of trees and ruin behind me.

"Go there," he mouthed. Then something along the lines of "I'll grab something. You go right away," which I couldn't do. I can't just run. That might be was Sue is screaming at the screen at this moment, but Sue's not. She's not because of me. That was good enough for me at the moment.

5

4

3

I got ready to run, but not right into the cornucopia. I would go in only a quarter of the way, grab the two bags closest to where I stood, along with anything else I could scavenge.

2

Run

In and out. In and out. In and out. But I was in there longer than I thought, people were already fighting, some close to me. In and out. First bag in my hand, kneeling down and picking Io as I set my sights back on the second bag, it bounced against my side as I ran to the second one.

But someone came swinging at me, a wicked sharp blade in each hand. Fight or flight.

Flight.

I turned and ran, holding the bags I had ran for in my hands. Heavy feet fell behind me, but I didn't turn to see the face. But the steps eventually stopped, but I didn't. I wasn't thinking. I was stupid. I had to wait for Jovanni. Or do I? This could all be some elaborate plan, does he just want to get rid of me? No he wouldn't. Wouldhe?

I knew Jovanni a long time ago, I thought I saw him again, but was this just another one of the cronies that would do anything to kill me now. Is he both? Neither?

As if I could run away from the thoughts in my head, I pick up the pace, barely feeling the harsh terrain under my feet, the rocks just barely felt through the thin, flexible soles of my shoes. I moved closer to the tree line, just when I hear the rustling of those trees. I didn't have a weapon.

No. I made it out of the bloodbath. I'm not going to die now. I get ready for a fight, all while still running fast and hard.

"Hey- Dawn!" I look behind me to see Jovanni. Did he have a knife? A sword? Anything. Or maybe he just has a loaf of bread in one hand, and his jacket in the other.

"When did you have time to take off your jacket?" I mutter in a voice low enough so that he couldn't hear me.

"Dawn? Dawn! Slow down." I did. He managed to catch up, then I pushed him, hard.

"Not so loud," I hiss. Then I take a step back and slide one of the packs over my shoulders. As I was about to through the other over he asked for it. I handed it over, almost unwilling. He placed the load into the bag, then his jacket.

"Come on." I don't want him to, but he keeps up the pace.

Blaze Morrison, D9M:

The scene I had made last night at the interviews was putting a target on my back. I'm surprised there wasn't a red bullseye on the back of my windbreaker. Not that it mattered. Let them try, I thought. It would be fun to squash every attempt on my life, along with making more than attempts on another 23 lives.

…

I still don't have a single kill. Not even a good punch or kick. There had been a chase, and I had lost her, the dark hair slipping into the woods. Bodies were already littering the ground. I needed at least one. Then I saw it. It was so perfect. The first time I could go past what I had been previously allowed. I could end a life. Really take it. Not just inconvenience but breaking someone's neck, the crack of a broken bone and the spilling of glorious blood.

I then saw a small girl right in the mouth of the cornucopia. It was just like any other time I fought, the world around me was silent, only a raw buzz of white noise was left to rattle around my head. There was a knife left point down in the earth. I snatched it up, charging towards my mark. She turned when I was just inches from her. Solana Ennis, District 6. I know all the names, I always do. Every fight is with a person, every person is with a name. They are the few mementoes I keep from every fight. I remember Dawnson Lacker, Anita Drones, and countless others. I would remember Solana Ennis.

She didn't scream.

Then I saw my next kill. Chrysanthe Wolfe. She had a knife in her hand, but she didn't see me. Her back was to me. Bye bye. I picked up a heavy-hilted sword from a few steps away.

Chrys Wolfe, D4F:

The first death came only seconds before the gong. I'm not sure what it was about it. The fact that she had been just to my left when she stepped off, or the fact that I don't even know her name, or that I just can't help it, but when the gong goes along with the 22 other competitors still alive, I can't. The stillness was over in a moment, but that moment was one lost to me. My competitors were all making their way to the cornucopia. Some already had a hold of their weapons. Sure, plenty were far away from the bloodbath, but none of them could really be competition. In fact, one of the few quick ones was already making his way towards me with a knife in hand. A slim handled blade better suited for throwing, but a knife is a knife and can be used just as easily in closer range. The boy had dark hair in a flurry around his head. Maybe from 6. Yeah. John Burr. I vaguely remember his training score of 8. Or 7. Ory maybe 10 for all I know.

It should be an easy fight, get the knife get rid of him and move on, but my brain was still frozen, refusing to work in my favour. He seemed good with a knife, almost as good as me. Just get the knife from him. Take it. Do anything. It seemed I had moved from frozen to spinning, a million times worse. The swipe of a knife came at where my throat had been a second earlier, but I dodged the attack and grabbed at his arm. He was strong, but I was stronger. I was the knife the next moment, and it took only another to have landed it on his chest, then slitting his throat for good measure. At least 2 down now. The fighting was in full force now. I spotted a body already discarded in the mouth of the cornucopia. A small creature with deathly white skin and a fan of dark hair. 20 left. Except I could no longer keep count. The paralysis of fear and adrenaline still had a grip. I didn't even see the boy coming. Then the sword ran me through.

I fell to the grass, the world flashing before me. I'm not dying, not now.

I can't.

Reign King, D1M:

Death came in a matter of moments. Seemingly seconds afterward were released I felt the rope around my throat. Tighter and tighter. Didn't see the face of who wielded the substitute weapon. Then I didn't see anything at all. At least the grass smelled nice. Like new spring, dewy and soft.

No one was left to miss me.

Solana Ennis, D6F:

I had lost sight of Drake. On the pedestal he had gestures to a thick section of trees, right beside the large lake of clear blue water, s stream cutting through the thicket. That's where we would go. Only I was almost as far from it as I could be from it. It was on the way there when the knife pierced my side.

The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. Even the aches of hunger were nothing in comparison. The grass was cold and damp. I turned around to see a looming figure of sheer muscle over top of me. A deadly weapon in its grip. No matter what happened, I refused to close my eyes. I would stare death in the face. The least I could do in this cruel place. Blood was steadily sleeping through My clothes, they would have to peel it from my body. A flare of rebellion erupted within me. Would serve them right. I could practically hear the cannon booming with the announcement of my demise.

Sequoia Carsyn, D7F:

The tree I had climbed up was too close to everything happening on the ground. So much death. Most importantly, I looked to Blaze Morrison, District 9. Call it stubbornness, but or maybe passion, or just the incredibly lengthy grudges I am known for holding. He will pay for what he said.

Guess I don't know how to take an insult. Then again, I have a pretty good idea. This grudge would end up With a canons roaring announcement, and a mutilated body sent back to District 9. He already had 1 attempted kill, girl from 10 who just outran him, one actually name on his list. But now his attentions were elsewhere, District 4. Chrysanthe Wolfe.

Another body. But this one wasn't quite dead yet. I would have to finish her off if I got the chance. But not now. I needed to wait. Wait for all the fighting to be over. Wait for everyone to leave.

Once a thief, always a thief.

Then I watched a new scene played out, as another one died. The careers, 2 members short. I just needed to bide my time. I settled in, noticing the sun already setting along the fake horizon. The entire breath taking view was just that. Fake.

Rusty Steele, D2F:

Other than the pack, only bodies were left. 5 of them spread out in all positions and locations. It was silent, save for a faint hint of breathing I heard in the silence the careers left. Not from any of them. A small boy jumped out of the cornucopia, previously hiding behind a large crate. A knife was out. I remembered him, District 7. Idiot. Oh, this would be fun. As he charged at me I took a step to the side only to sweep his legs out from under him,

"Look what I found," I laughed as he struggled under my boot. There was something beautiful about This could be simple, press down until he stopped breathing but… they want a show right?

I took a knee beside the boy, his hair spread in a dark halo around his head. The blade in his hand should have been spotless, or could have been. A shiny new dagger like in training, but instead it yielded layers of yellowing rust. Even more painful. I had to smile, this weapon was meant especially for me. Rusty and her rusty dagger. I tried it out, prying it out of his soon to be dead hands, I leaned down, trying a swipe the blade along his eye brow. It cut itthrpigh skin like cloth.

I broke his arm in a split second, hyperextending his elbow until it just… snapped. When it fell limply to the ground his screaming became louder.

"Oh, now now. Calm down kid. This will be over before you know it," in answer, he brought a weak knee jab into the back of my thigh. It didn't hurt, but it was he fact that he had wanted it to that made me see red. T

"On second thought," I brought the rusty weapon to his face, placing it gently over top his skin, caressing, looking for a good place to dig in. I shook my head as he jerked his around, blood already pouring down his face from the small cut I made above his eyebrow,

"Hold still," I knew he wouldn't, that was kind of the point. It would make his death so much more fun.

It was as I tortured the boy the canons started their merry announcement of death. One. Two…

Mars Marker, D4M:

"..Three. Four." Jasper and Celestyn both frowned at the low count. Celestyn wrinkled her nose,

"Really? So few?" I shrugged, flinching at the sound of Rusty finishing off number five. I wanted to ask her to stop, and if we were back home she would have, I had been the leader, but now?

"I guess," my eyes pan over the scene one more time, avoiding the blood in the grass. Where was Chrystal?

Walking around the cornucopia, I saw a trail of red. Great. Was there another body back here? There couldn't be, all five were back by the mouth. Then I saw the leg. The body attached to it. I rushed to Crystals side, shouting her name,

"Chrys!" She held her hands over a gash in her stomach. As I took a Closer look, I saw just how bad it was.

"What happened?" she gritted her teeth in a forced smile, hair falling into her eyes.

"When I wasn't looking… I… someone… cut me," I looked back down at the hole in her shirt, the steady spreading of red. Why is there so much blood?

"That's more than a cut. Someone ran you through."

"You guessed it," her laughter came out as a terrible grunt, blood trickling through her lips. Just don't die.

"Can you walk? Do I need to-" she shook her head,

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"No, you won't. I'm not letting you. Not now." the screaming from Rusty's victim finally stopped. The cannon marking the last death of the day. Hopefully. She shook her head, gripping her side tighter,

"I guess it doesn't matter. I'm going to die anyways," what had gotten into her?

"What's going on back here…" I looked behind me to see Celestyn, Jasper on her heels. There was a long silence, heavy enough to way us all down. Celestyn frowned. The silence was finally cut by Rusty, walking past the other two. There was a spatter of blood on her cheek, and staining the knife she held firmly in one hand,

"Oh my… isn't this dreadful?" she knelt beside me, dried blood flaking off her pants,

"And here I was, hoping the whole pack would survive," then she looked at me, "how long until she bleeds out? Or should we just end her right now?"

"What? No, no. we can't," her steely eyes reminded me of her last name,

"Says who?"

"Says me. Chrystal isn't dying today," surely she considering saying both of us would, her silence told me that much. She didn't seem all that concerned though, like death was just another thing to check off a list. She just wanted another name to add to her list.

"Fine, but she's your responsibility." Rusty left disappointed.

…

Chrystal eventually noticed the few bodies, after helping her to a spot within the cornucopia, she laughed at a joke only apparent to her,

"You lost the bet," she said, finally,

"What bet?"

"The kid from 5?" she prompted, "you bet on the train that he would be a bloodbath?" then it clicked,

"Oh, yeah. But, you know, it's funny, I can't remember betting anything on it. What do you say?"

"I can't either. Oh, well. I guess I'll have to think of something."

She was sitting with her back against one of the crates, wearing another shirt I had found in another one. I still had the oddest feeling that Rusty was watching me. Us.

"We'll figure something out."

But something else wasn't right about the scene. Here were only 5 cannons. But… a trail of blood led away from the Cornucopia, disappearing into the woods. Someone got away. Everyone was going to be pissed.

"crap."

Avis Byrd, D12F:

The sound of a cannon brought me back to the scene. I wasn't dead. I wasn't dead. Yet I was still stuck here on the ground. When I tried to move I found my left a strictly unable to produce more than a twitch of fingers. The tendons of my arm had been slashed, a long stinging cut running from nearly the center of my chest to my wrist. It was a shallow cut, but if I didn't bandage it I would eventually bleed out and die. I've lived in the threat of death almost all my life, how is this any different?

Was the world spinning? Opening my eyes and forcing myself to assess I found that I couldn't see it. Then I saw more than I wanted, my vision doubled itself. slowly, the scene flickered to normal, when I could at least see what was on top of me, a slightly cloudy sky, I figured it was time to move. Get To the trees. No one was around me, but I heard voices nearby. Now or never.

The pain I had felt was dulled, but as I moved my arm screamed in pain. It was nothing like I had ever imagined, or could have possibly experienced. The worst pain I had ever experienced was a broken ankle, and landing from a big tree. But I don't have Aveline. She helped me through it. Before that I had just called her the Forest Savage. I had gotten to know her then, and know the forest. I crawled towards the trees, hoping I could find something, anything, to help me end this agony.

It was in a thicket of leaves I didn't recognize, that I began to wonder who had caused this. I came up with no name, but a face. Contorted in anger to the point of animalistic. Tanned face, dark eyes, two braids of dark brown hair framing her face. Cracked lips that never opened. Then I had seen only blackness.

I tried to move again, only for my arms to collapse underneath me.

Winstead Dale, D11M:

Both of us had made it out. The five cannons that sounded behind us just made us pick up the speed. I could almost pretend that this was just another race. It's a beautiful day, the sun was low and beginning it's descent into the horizon. The shoe laces tied around my wrist flashing with every pump of my arms. Looking over to see the determination on Abilene's face made me run all that much harder. We ran side by side, only the pound of our feet in a form of communication. The phrase was simple: keep going. Permanently repeating.

Maybe 50 yards from where I stood on my pedestal was this dark grey bag. When I could run in I grabbed it, slinging it over my shoulder. It's contents banged against my back with every step. It was as I made my escape that a knife was thrown at my back. I dodged it,and it spun straight into a tree, from which I yanked it and kept running. It might have been the girl from 1 who was the barer. Or 2, either way, they were drawn back into the fighting and away from me. The knife was in my hand now, and I was just doing my best not to drop it. It would have been unfortunate, and very much like me, to drop it on my foot. Point down. Thankfully I didn't, knuckles going white around the hilt.

Athena Lightes, D3F:

It was all I could do to run. I had gotten pretty good at it over the years. So I ran. Took nothing from the feast spread before us. Ran for my life, because that's exactly what hung in the balance.

The rubble around me, chunks of rock and the dust in the air made the way a hard one. But the thought of Acer on my heels quickened my pace. He finally exact his revenge for Ari. She had been my friend, too. For that last little while before her passing. I let out a heavy breath, a small laugh. Passing. It was murder. Just like these death games.

Would I be on the screen? It didn't matter, I didn't see any screens in here, only the dust of fallen stone that made it hard to breath and the stones the dust rose from. They were all different sizes, some were small enough to fit in my fist, others towered 10 feet above my head. The taller ones all looked like the brick buildings in 3, if the brick buildings were obliterated. I ducked behind one of the larger ones for a moment of shelter from the dazzling heat. It bounced back off all the white. If they were to have a fight on screen, this would be the place. Blood would stand out as if one snow.

I started running again, slowly. As I did I veered off the the far right. Something else I learned from Acer. Always change up your trail. I suppose Acer might be what's keeping me alive. That was too much for me to handle.

Leaning over the white stone I proceeded to toss up the little food I had managed to eat over the past days. As I leaned over something sharp stuck into my side. I found a knife in my waistband. Covered in blood. Where has it come from? More importantly, whose blood was on it? I left it with the putrid vomit, not loitering for the smell was bad enough to make me do it again.

As I went, I tugged on one of my braids. The sting in my scalp was not made me pull harder. The small pain distracting me from… everything.

"Don't do that," I jumped, turning around to see Lillith, the blade I had discarded in her hand. I dropped my hand, inspecting red lines my nails had made over the cuts Acer had made. They were almost healed now. Nodding, she spoke about how she had almost lost me, what she saw in the bloodbath. She was nervous, running her mouth to fill in the silence. Even if I could have

Mica Lee, D9F:

Night had fallen. And only 5 deaths? These games were getting sloppy. Or more likely, the people in them. The Capitol would be displeased. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I picked out a jagged rock from the moss, tree roots and leaves on the ground. As I spoke, I dragged it along a tree. It made a loud scratch with each heave. An even sharper pointstsrted to form. A make shift knife. I did this throughout our entire conversation.

"So, why'd you volunteer?" Everyone was wondering why there were two volunteers from outer districts, let alone one from 12. He sighed, leaning back on his elbows to face the setting sun above us. It sent a golden glow around his face,

"I was close with the kid who was reaped, Elm, and it made my stepfather happy." So it wasn't for him. That much I could understand. In the background of it all was his name, the silence that hung heavy on us rang clearly with his name. I kept my thoughts to myself. My plans.

"Do you have anyone waiting for you back home?" I jumped at the question, looking up to see such intensity in his eyes. I shrugged, thinking carefully on how I should answer. Finally, I spoke.

"No one. Well- I had a younger brother," he's the only person I care about. I need to keep him safe. So I lie. He looked down, noticing the past tense, then he started leaning back to look up to the sky.

"I have a younger sister. Well- half sister. Not really, actually." Then he went into a whole thing about his family. About a dead father, died under mysterious circumstances. Then about his victor for a step father who brought along the "step monster". Then about a sweet and compassionate mother. Though he made it all seem like it was sad and dreary, I knew that he must have had a good life. A victor? He lived in a mansion, where he didn't have to worry about hiding. Then he spoke about his wonderful friends and finally came back to the boy he volunteered for,

"Elm's a good kid. A great kid." That was when I heard the smallest twinge of anger in His voice. "He didn't deserve this. No one deserves this."

Finally, he turned the questions around on me,

"What about your family? Friends?" I shrugged.

"It's just me," I had to be careful what I said. I was most likely to die anyways, but I couldn't let them find Rhyse.

"What? It can't be just you. What about your father? Mother?"

"Don't even mention my mother!" I shouted, then covered my mouth with a hand shaking with rage. I was more angry with my father, always will be, but I get angry about my mother. The woman I can't remember, the apparent reason my father drank, the reason his fist came down with hard, unforgiving blows with no rhyme or reason.

"I'm sorry," I clenched my hands into fists, calming myself down, "I just don't like to talk about my family," I cat open up to him. I can't give him anything to use against me. Can't let him use Rhyse against me.

There was a silence, the he apologized. But Ash was starting to doze off, so I suggested I take first watch. He agreed, already slipping into unconsciousness. I wouldn't even need to wait. By simply Slitting his throat, the 6th cannon would soon blow it announcement. I thought about it, I knew that it would be so easy. I even fingered the knife-like rock, holding it tight. It made a sharp indent in the pads of my fingers. I could, I've taken lives before. But those times were different. Which is why I couldn't do it.

I couldn't do because Ash di angelo was an actual person. Not just a nameless uniform with a gun and a willingness to kill. He had a name. A family. He had friends. So I can't do it. Not now.

So I sat. I waited. When the time seemed right I woke him, then settled into my own sleep against a tree. Keeping one eye open. Never be too careful.

And now for eulogies.

24: Harlene Cross, D8F- 0 kills

walked off her pedestal early

She was so sweet. I knew that she had to die and it had to be now but that doesn't make it easier

23: John Burr, D6M- 0 kills

Throat slashed, Chrysanthe Wolfe 

I just found him difficult to write. I spent a long time figuring out who was going to die, and he was really only on the bloodbath list the last few rounds. 

22: Reign King, D1M- 0 kills

Suffocation, Jean Hughes 

Mostly, I think I just didn't quite right him to his full potential. He had a really interesting backstory that I didn't successfully expand on. He was one that I was really looking forward to writing and I kind of just fell flat. I'll miss him.

21: Solana Ennis, D6F- 0 kills

Stab wound in her side, Blaze Morrison

I liked her. A lot. She was just too good for these games. I'm sure that she'll be missed.

20: Jaeger Primrose, D7M- 0 kills

Multiple stab wounds, Amber Steele

It's no surprise to anyone when I say that I didn't like him. The unfortunate thing is that now I just feel sorry for him. He was just a kid, a fictional kid, but he didn't deserve his death. This is what the hunger games does to you.

Current list- Alliances

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrys Wolfe, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold


	23. Chapter 23- Day 2: pt 1

**Chapter 23- day 2**

**Abilene Ackerman, D11F: **

I woke up to Winstead's fingers slowly getting tangled in my hair. I laughed, opening my eyes only to close them again because of the harsh light. His laugh answered mine, probably at whatever face I was making. It took only a few seconds to adjust afterwards. It was morning, I could practically see the sheepish grin on Winstead's face before I even looked at him,

"Winstead," I reprimanded,

"What?"

"You know what. I asked to switch at midnight. You stayed up all night, didn't you?" his silence was answer enough, "Winstead!"

"You need you're sleep,"

"So do you!" His eyes softened, admitting that he should have woken me. Instead of saying out loud, however, he stood up,

"We need some water."

I stood up too, "and _you_ need some sleep."

There was more arguing. He flat out refused, and I couldn't do anything about it. He already had a full canteen, which was already sterilized with a few drops of iodine. He insisted I take the first sip. It was from last night, I could almost taste the staleness on my tongue. Not that I was complaining. Water was water, and we were lucky this time around that there was so much in supply. I tried to hand the canteen over, but he just pushed it gently back at me. It was only when half of the lukewarm water was down that he finally took it. He finished up the rest of the water and then asked me to get the iodine out of the bag. I did was he walked out to the stream just a few feet away.

The pack wasn't heavy, but it wasn't very light either. As I opened it I soon found it was because of the three small vials , made completely of the same reflective metal as the canteen now filling up in the stream. I pulled all three out, knowing one of them had what he wanted. Or hoping, at least.

"Which of these is it?" He looked up, hands still holding the bottle under. It made small ripples in the already fast moving stream.

"Look on the bottom, the iodine will have that symbol on it."

Listening to his advice, I flipped them all, holding them awkwardly by the necks, nearly flipping them right to the dirt. The one in the middle held the symbol, a dark blue circle and a white IO inside it.

"Here you go," passing it along, I then went back to study the other two vials. The one in my right hand had a pale red ring around a black C35, the other with the same code and a green ring.

Neither of us knew what they were,

"It's better if we just leave them alone," I suggested, and he agreed. An hour had already passed since I had woken up, and it was time to run again. My muscles were still stiff, but at least that meant it would only hurt for a little while. Packing up the bag, I took it for the first little while. Winstead took the knife, holding it carefully. He had better at that station, but it was still a work in progress.

"Race you," he suddenly started a full out sprint,

"Hey!" I called out, laughing behind him as I followed. The pack banged aggressively against the small of my back, "cheater!" We weren't racing anywhere, but that wasn't the point.

This was nice. I could just… forget. Just run.

**Drake Ru, D5M: **

Ana's dead. I had feared for the worse when she didn't follow me out of the bloodbath, but I convinced myself that she was fine. That was, until I saw her face in the sky last night. It still hasn't sunk in yet. She was so innocent. So like me. Is that my fate? It doesn't really matter now. I need to stay alive. For both of us.

I hadn't grabbed anything, it had been my intention to, but being faced with all the fighting before I was even halfway to the closest object, I decided it was better to live a little while longer. Plenty more chances to get killed, why throw it all in the pot on the first day? Though it wasn't funny, I found myself letting out a small laugh. Then I went quiet. Left with only one question.

What do I do now?

I don't have an answer. I need an answer.

**Jasper Knopp, D2M:**

Things between the pack have been… tense. Correction- the things between Mars Marker and Rusty Steele have been tense. In the past 24 hours, there have been at least ten Rusty smiles, two arguments, and both of them holding tight to their weapons. I think all of us had weapons at hand. Except Chrysanthe. She was struggling to stay away. Delirious, injured, it's a miracle she's still alive. Especially with Rusty around. I'm surprised she hasn't already put the poor thing out of her misery.

I want to know what everyone was thinking. These are death games after all, but what about mind games? How many of those are at play? Too many to tell.

"Can you believe them?" I look up from my swords to see Celestyn, leaning over me. She sat beside me, her jacket set aside somewhere,

"What do you mean?" I'm not much for small talk, I was ready to just watch the dogs fight it out, leave me time to get the hell out before they start on the whole turning against each other.

She scoffed, gesturing to the Rusty, her twisted smile still on her face, one hand holding a knife, the other at her waist, where another knife rested. She spoke too quietly for either of us to hear her, but Chrys probably could, if she was coherent enough to understand it.

"You know what I mean. Rusty, and Mars. they're turning this all into a drama. It's ridiculous," it was a full ten seconds before her hard expression broke into a smile,

"What? I'm kidding. Come on, lighten up, Jasper," she punched me in the shoulder lightly. I finally broke into a smile of my own. Unlike Rusty, she might actually be nice. Or as nice as you can be in a situation like this. Then she had a more serious tone to her voice,

"How long do you think she has?" I didn't need to ask which _she _she was talking about.

"Not long enough. I-" I was saved from trying to think of something else to say by Rusty cutting me off, this time yelling to be heard.

"Let's clear out. The bodies are starting to stink," They were still all over the place. Spread out in their peaceful death. I could almost pretend they were just asleep. Except for the blood. And it's coppery stench in the air and the open, unseeing eyes.

We all agreed, all a little too willing to uproot. Then we were faced with Chrys. She was too weak to move. Which brought up Rusty's point. It would be easier if she was dead. Instead, Mars was half carrying, half guiding Crystal. She held onto her crutch with dear life, the life that was slowly draining out of her. I could see now why Rusty hasn't killed her. She was already dying. Quickly. She'll be lucky to make it to tomorrow. Her face pale, drenched in a cold sweat, it was a pitiful sight. The only close second was seeing the fake optimism washing over Mars' face. He was really fooling himself into thinking she had a shot.

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F:**

I didn't sleep much last night. I've always been a light sleeper, but in those dark hours saying I got two hours of sleep would have been pushing it. They all took turns keeping watch, which mostly meant that they tried to not nod off and woke someone else up when they realized they couldn't stay awake. I could barely see through the darkness, but I could hear everything. I would hear the occasional rustle of clothing and limbs as someone turned over in their sleep, or a breeze that made the bushes sway, making a sound that you only hear in the dead of night. That you could only hear in the quiet of a night filled with death.

I watched now, alert as ever, as the five cleared out. They were all undamaged from the bloodbath. Except one. It looked pretty bad. Sun-bleached hair was tangled and knotted, her hands were clutching at a spot just below her ribs and her face was contorted in pain. I must have looked that bad when I had been whipped. A public event and a violent one. I never want to experience it again. Just the reminder made the line of scar tissue rippling my face tingle. I learned long ago to ignore it, that it was only a psychological reminder of those days, but that didn't make it go away now. Instead, I let myself spectate the scene. The girl was being half carried as the others prowled into the clearing and then away into the trees, far from me. I didn't move right away, knowing that these people were like dogs, even a breaking branch would send them chasing back, thirsting for blood. I would need to be quiet and quick, but before that I needed to be patient.

I slowly counted the seconds.

34\. 35. 36.

At 350, I started to climb down, one branch at a time. My muscles were tight and stiff from misuse, and it took longer than usual to get down. By the time I did, I was warm enough for an all out sprint, should the need arise.

I was careful. Only taking a small amount from each crate, maybe a handful of crackers, an apple, a hunk of cheese from a large wheel, one bag in a pile of fifteen. Nothing they'd notice. I disappeared into the treeline a few moments after I was dropped from my own tree, running from the scene in the opposite direction of the pack. Once I had set a good distance, I climbed another tree. This one was a large oak, it's sturdy branches helping me all the way to the top. I waited for the limp bodies to be cleared away, the horrible smell that had attacked my senses still seemed very potent, but that might just be my imagination. But the hovercraft never appeared. Everyone was far enough away. I was trying to reason it out, have some piece of the puzzle fall into place, when something I hadn't thought of before was suddenly apparent. It was so surprising, but so likely, I laughed. It was quiet, I didn't need anyone to hear it and think of making mine the nineteenth canon, but it was a dark chuckle. Someone else was still there. I hadn't been alone. The careers would figure it out soon too. Or maybe they were just plain stupid.

**Ash di Angelo, D12M: **

"What are you doing?" Mica didn't look up from her task. She's been at whatever it is for over an hour now, and I was getting anxious. Something along the lines of being followed, that feeling you get when there are eyes on you, eyes that you can't see. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up. It was odd, but I had been feeling it all day. It was nearing lunch time now, but I wasn't hungry, and if Mica was she didn't mention it.

"Setting some traps,"

"For what?" then I amended it, knowing a cool glare was coming my way, "or who?"

"For anyone, or any animal that happens to come through it's way," she then proceeded to show me how the trip wire would catch the victims foot, raising them up into the air, dangling and helpless,

"Whether we get them or someone else, it doesn't really matter, does it?" or something. I shivered at that thought. Quite literally anything could be out here. Tracker jackers, wild dogs, any and all variations of Mutts. Even in the warmth of the early morning sun, it sent a shiver up my spine.

With a rustle of branches, Mica disappeared into the stalks of some sort of grain,

"Hey!" I followed, only to find she was just going to sit against a tree. She was already sitting, hugging her knees to her chest and leaned it back against a large elm. I laughed, picturing that sack of rolls and desserts tossed behind another elm a thousand years ago.

"What's so funny?" I stopped laughing then, looking over Mica's cool face. Her nose was slightly crooked, as if someone had broken it and it didn't set properly. There was a thin scar running through her eyebrow, and I wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the crease her eyebrows were forming, the scar standing out in sudden clarity, staying stiff in its thin line. I didn't mention it, she probably wouldn't tell me anything anyways.

I smoothed my face, no longer laughing, "Nothing," I sighed, before settling down next to her, "what are we doing here?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"A catch."

**Blaze Morrison, D9M:**

There was a good chance I had bruised my foot. That tree was wide, solid. Kicking hadn't done anything but make the bones on my foot pop as if shifting under my skin. I had kept kicking it though, kicking until my foot had gone numb. If there wasn't someone else to take my anger out on, a tree would have to do. It had helped, I was now thinking a little more clearly. one kill. That was it. I need more.

The copper smell was missing, and because of that everything seemed off somehow. Wrong. It was the only way to cope. Fresh blood, whether from a broken nose, or a split lip. But this was different. Different, but so much better. holding a life in your hands and actually ending it, it went beyond merely teaching someone a lesson, beyond throwing a punch or kick. It was… exhilarating. And more than that was the name. It sang in my ears, along with the twenty-two other names that would soon sing. Over and over they rang. King… Stoles… Knopp… Ackerman… the list went on for miles. Each name making my smile grow. Combing the woods, the thrill in trusting a knife through a chest. It was an incredible moment, to be replayed over and over again. A small girls face in the sky.

Shaking off the small pain, if anything it fed the fire inside me, I began to comb through the woods once more. Searching for one more kill. One more moment of power and unmistakable joy. At least one more. I need it. The fire will keep building up, and then explode out of me, like my mother. She must be proud. Or too drunk to get out of bed. I smiled grimly, remembering who she used to be. She was weak. I was weak, but not anymore. I will be stronger than she could even aspire to be.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

I forgot how disconcerting silence can be. I've rarely had silence, not since that night. But now it's all around me. I never realized it, but everyone I was with regularly were all very talkative. But now, with a person who couldn't speak even if she wanted to, I found the quiet unnerving.

We were camped out near where I had found Athena, puking her guts out. I was fiddling with the knife I had found, discarded, covered in blood. The way Athena was looking at it, it seemed like she didn't like the weapon much. Or maybe she wanted it. But the way she looked at the thing…

The way she looked at me.

I felt a rough hand on my arm, turning my forearm up to the sky. The knife in my other hand was up to the person's throat in the next instant, only to be lowered back to my side when I realized that it was Athena. I tried to pull my pale arm out of view, behind my back or something, I don't know what I was trying to do, just get it away from all the cameras, and the curious, cold eyes of Athena Lightes.

_What happened? _Her mouth formed the words with over exaggerated shapes. I shrugged, pretending that I couldn't speak either, even if it's just for a few moments until the curiosity passes but I soon realize it won't. Her hand is still closed around my wrist, and her other hand is now brushing hair out of my face, looking at the raised white scars I had gotten the same day. Can I tell her? Can I trust her? The only other person I had told about it, besides my friends and family back home, was dead. John Burr. In a way I was grateful, surely he would have tried to use it against me. But Athena was a better person than that. Actually, I can't say that. She is, at least, less of a threat. Even with that in mind, I shook my head,

"Nothing. It's nothing," I'm not making that mistake again. She nodded, knowing it was a lie but understanding I didn't want to tell the truth.

We spent the rest of the day in silence, keeping our thoughts inside, walking as far as we could from where we had set up camp the previous night, walking through the small river bed, our shoes in our hands, making as little noise as possible in the rushing stream.

**Jean Hughes, D8M:**

I had actually killed someone. It had been so easy. Hold them still and wait until their eyes bulge and their face turns blue from lack of oxygen, then watch as they fall to the ground. Dead. I learned last night that he belonged to District 1. It seemed too simple. But I guess that's the way it is. Everyone dies, just a matter of how, where and when. I just made when come around a little sooner.

Tough luck. And who knows, maybe I have done the kid a small mercy. Death might be kinder than going on. I just don't want to find out any time soon. The rocks were reflecting the heat of the sun back up at me. It was like I was being fried, so I took off the jacket, holding it in my hand. The roof of my mouth felt like sandpaper. It had been less than a day, but I would need to find water soon. Then I remembered the lake. Yeah. I could end up right back at the cornucopia, take whatever I want, and maybe meet up with Rusty in the process.

Turning back, I started a long jog to what I knew to be the cornucopia. And even though, currently, the steel horn of plenty was hidden among rocks, but it would only take a small bit of climbing to find it again. It was tedious, and slow. The uneven rocks made footing difficult, and now I was only slightly concerned with survival. Yesterday, I had ran until dusk. I had only fallen a few times.

I swore quietly under my breath.

Today's going to be a long day. And possibly long night.

The afternoon soon came, bringing along with it the sun is at the highest point in the sky, so I stopped, gave myself a second to cool down in the shade before going back out. This is going to be a long day.

**Jovanni Gold, D10M:**

We had ran all night. When that got too difficult, we walked. It was an even mix of both. Now, sometime in the next afternoon, we were still walking. Both were too stubborn to say we needed a break, but both of us were quiet, disheveled, out of breath. But I figured I should break first, because Dawn never would. Dawn was like that, and even that made me smile, through my aching feet and bleary eyes,

"Should we check what's in the bags?" It was the first thing either of us had said since we had met up. She still didn't trust me, but she did grudgingly agree,

"I guess. Come on," she just kept walking,

"Where are you going?" She didn't answer, but she stopped. Craning her neck, she looked up somewhere. So I stepped beside her, trained my eyes in the same direction,

"Up there. It'll be safer," she pointed a finger up at a spot nearly at the top of the tree.

"How will that be safer. If you fall you'd be lucky if you just break a bone," she didn't listen, just started climbing. She was half way up before she noticed I wasn't following. I just can't do it. It's so high and so flimsy even if I could, I've never climbed a tree. Never had a need too. I would be lucky to get a foot off the ground.

"What's the matter?" I couldn't tell her. She'd look at with pity and distrust then. Or maybe mockery and distrust. No, she couldn't mock anyone. Not even me, or any of my "friends".

"Oh… you can't climb, can you?" Okay, so maybe she could, but it wasn't mean, not really,

"I don't know. Never tried it," she sighed, then started giving me directions.

"See that branch level with your shoulders? To your left- other left!- grab it. With both hands. Then place your feet on that knob next to your knee."

On and on it went. Finally, almost fifteen minutes later, I was balanced on a branch just below Dawn's. She was laughing, but I knew it wasn't at me,

"Congratulations! You just climbed your first tree," her voice was dripping with sarcasm, but the smile was still there. It lit up her face, like it was the sun. The sun breaking up the dark night and revealing the beautiful dawn. Both of her eyes, one dark the other light, were staring at me intensely. It was the sort of gaze that needed a buffer in between. Like I could catch fire if she stared long enough, but I wouldn't be looking away any time soon.

"Thanks," I gave her my own smile, showing that I wasn't bothered by her stare, even if I felt a heat behind my eyes. Then she got on with business. Swinging the bag around on one shoulder, opening it in the same instance. I did the same, holding onto the trunk for dear life, knowing it'd only take one second of being off balance to send me flailing to the ground.

She was silently rummaging through the pack, naming off what she finds. There was a sleeping bag, bottle of iodine, a package of salted meat, similar plastic seal off crackers, canteen, and a few other items. I had a similar result, plus my jacket and the knife. I was just doing my best to not look down, not that I was afraid. Definitely not. Then again, I've never been up this high,

"You okay?" I nodded, looking up. Yes, up was better. All the branches reaching upward in pretty sweeping pattern, looking for the sun and fighting for time in it's light before night ran it's course.

"Fine. absolutely fine," she didn't believe me, and for a moment I was grateful, a comforting hand was placed gently on my knee. The second later it was retracted, as if she suddenly remembered that she didn't like me. I'm not Sue, and I'm not the Jovanni she knew. I don't know who I am.

That thought plowed into me like a clenched fist, knocking the wind from my lungs. I felt the straps of the bag slip from my fingers, and five seconds later a loud clank of metal and plastic hitting the ground resonated with a dull thud. The content of the bag had surely spilled out. Dawn muttered something under her breath. I opened my eyes to see her already climbing down the tree, which made me look down the tree. How had we gotten so high? I shook it off, trying to calm my racing heart,

"Wait up!" she must have noticed the panic in my voice, because she looked up, sympathy clearly written all over her face. At least enough to come direct me down.

My foot slipped on the first step down., and it was like my stomach dropped all the way back to the ground. I let a shriek, quickly contained.

"You're okay. You're fine. You're okay. You're fine," I repeated it over and over, until it finally seem to stick, and I was on the ground. Knees trembling, I knelt down and sat rested my back against the tree in question.

"Thank god," something was suddenly tossed into my lap, winding me even more. It was the bag, "glad to see you didn't fall. Come on, breaks over." I squeezed open one eye, looking at Dawn's pale eye, then flicking to the other one. She rolled her eyes, catching the small shift in my gaze.

"Come on," venom was laced into her words now, sympathy card expired. I nodded, getting up. She already slipped back onto the river side we had been walking along.

"Where are we going?"

"As far away from everyone as possible." sounded good enough for me.

**sorry for this... mess. Just sorry, I'll try to make up for it in the next on. **

* * *

**Alliances**

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrys Wolfe, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold


	24. Chapter 24- Day 2: pt 2

**Soo, I'm kind of cheating. I've written one for everyone except Mars. Sorry, it just didn't add anything and was just really boring. I've been editing it for like two weeks, but it just sucked. So I bypassed it. **

**On with the hunger games!**

**Chapter 24- Day 2- afternoon/night**

**Winstead Dale, D11M:**

I sat bolt upright in a cold sweat, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

"Winstead?" A careful, worried voice was speaking. Speaking to me. Abilene, I finally realized,

"Winstead, are you okay? What's wrong?" I shake my head, sitting up and leaning into her. She's so warm. I must be disgusting, good thing Abilene doesn't care. At least, I don't think so. Just that thought made me pull away. Or try to. She just pulled me back in.

"Nothings wrong," I say. She's still looking over my face, I'm still in that dull confused state right after waking up. Bleary eyed and shying away from light, "seriously I'm fine. Just a nightmare," it was more than just a nightmare. It was the eventually reality. She was dead. Or maybe I was dead. Or maybe we both were. It was already slipping my mind. Either way, it was a sobering thought.

"What was it about?" Perfect Abilene. Pure Abilene. She never cares enough about herself. All her love is spread among all her family and loved ones, and I don't know how's there's enough for her. Maybe there isn't. This not knowing is going to be the end of me. On second thought, it seems all the murderers in the arena probably had a grip on the "ending" bit.

"Nothing, just nonsense," I hate lying to Abilene, even about dumb stuff, and even if it was just a dream it's still the result of the foreseeable future. No. Abilene will go home. She has to,

"I'm okay I say again.

She smiles, "okay," I get up. My shirt is sticky with sweat.

"Let's go. I still feel like I'm too close to… everyone."

She agreed.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

I hate that knife. Every time Lillith bent over, I saw her shirt go flat against the shape of the curved blade. I still saw the steel stained red with blood in my hands. I was glad that we had a weapon, I had always felt more comfortable at home knowing that if Acer ever decided to try his luck again that I had a weapon handy. Still, I didn't know who's blood had been on it, on my hands, stiffening the back of my shirt. I still feel the rough patch rubbing against my skin.

...

"Athena? Hello?" I shake my head, looking up at her, dark hair falling over her face as she leans over, "you coming?" What's she talking about? Not like I can ask.

**Celestyn Scoles, D1F:**

There was nothing in the woods. Nowhere we looked at least. We had all left the cornucopia eventually, combing through the woods with a fine-tooth comb. Chrys was having trouble, losing a lot of blood. Rusty looked happy, and Jasper didn't. Leaning in to me and talking quietly. He was nice. As nice as anyone could be in here, I guess. Knowing that you're going to win and that means anyone you meet is about to die. Because you need to believe that you'll win. Otherwise you'd be froze with fear. Dead before you even took a step. That's not me. I'll win. I will.

We all stopped by a pond. Aggravated, annoyed, all sorts of big words that started with A, that's how you describe the tension in the air. The betrayals might start even sooner, just to make something interesting happen. It always happens eventually. But nothing is happening. Absolutely nothing. Just a matter of time. There probably going to start pushing us together tomorrow. I just want a good nights rest before that.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

I heard Jovanni rustling through his bag,

"Where is it?" I finally stopped, the stamina that had been with me all day finally giving way to fatigue. I haven't slept in two days, and haven't eaten or drank anything in that time either,

"Where's what? What are you looking for?" M voice sounded tight, and I worried for a moment he would see through the feigned ignorance,

"It's the knife I- I can't find it," He took a canteen out, holding it in one hand, only to drop it. He didn't seem to notice the clanking on the ground. I felt the knife he was looking for pressed against my back, tucked into my waistband. He didn't, and I exhaled. I only felt a twinge of guilt, but I don't need him pulling it on me in the middle of the night.

"Wow, that really sucks," he cursed, loudly, still rummaging through his bag. He's not going to find anything, and it seems like he knows it. But I still had to come over and physically take the bag out of his hands,

"Hey. it's fine. Stop," He sighed, finally stopping, putting his hands up in surrender,

"Okay. I'm done. Give me the bag back?" I tossed it at him. I watched as Jovanni slung it back over his shoulder. Both of us looked like a mess, surely. So I figured I'd be the nice one,

"Let's rest tonight. We'll need our strength," He nodded, seeing the sky already fading into the deep endless night. Even in broad daylight, surely both of us would have fallen asleep right then and there. The exhaustion was so heavy on me, I think I was asleep before I even inclipped my pack. I hope we don't die tonight. That would seriously suck.

**Acer Chriss, D3M:**

Every once in a while I feel my scar tingle and have the impulse to scratch it. I learned to control it awhile ago, it was just a mental tick, it's not real. All the same I feel it now. Both my hands stay at my side, carefully stepping over a jutting rock.

Where was she? I had my chance right there at the cornucopia, and I had gone and lost her. I kept flashing back to seeing her disappear into the rocks, with those two stupid braids coming around to whip her back. Right after she slit some girl wide open. Collar bone to elbow, right down the inside of her arm. But her victim was still alive, and so was Mute. I had been about to chase after her, but I was driven off by a sudden attack. I was fine, my assailant giving up and running away, but when I turned back she had disappeared.

I darted off the makeshift path I had been following, taking a break. Combing through the terrain was getting me nowhere. I need to find her, and find her fast. No one else needs to get hurt. For me. For Ari. I should probably rest, it's dark and I'm doing more harm than good out here. So I stay put, but I most definitely don't go to sleep.

**Chrysanthe Wolfe, D4F:**

I'm going to die. No matter how hard Mars tries to convince me, I know where I was stabbed. I should have been dead. The swords hadn't gone through my stomach, it was only grazed, but I know that I have 12 hours to live, give or take. Jasper and Celestyn were ignoring me, as if I was already a ghost. Mars still looks at me with hope. Hope, wishing the impossible would become real. But that's exactly what it was, impossible.

I thought this close to death I'd be delirious, crazy, denying. But I was in this little world of my own. It has given me… Clarity. That was the word. I was dwelling on my life, my family. They must be devastated right now, or maybe it was one less mouth to feed. No, that was cruel. They loved me, I loved them. But they must all be suffering with me. Maybe they've already quietly shut off the television, coming to the same conclusion as me.

Then my thoughts turned to Mars. What was he thinking? Looking back on it, we had only known each other for a week. Less than. I had barely known his name before this. Funny, how the boy who didn't want any part in the games would outlast me, the volunteer. It was crazy, who signs up for this voluntarily? I scoffed inwardly, me. He deserved to live. His girlfriend deserved to have him back, by her side. In another universe, I would like to imagine I was that girlfriend.

That thought made me blush, it was stupid, childish. I was flooded with relief as my wondering were interrupted. It was Celestyn,

"Did anyone see them pick up the bodies?" There was silence for a moment, then Rusty scoffed,

"Well, I'll be damned. You finally noticed. You must be so proud of yourself,"

"So," Mars sat up beside me, soon proceeding to stand. If he had hoped to intimidate Rusty into an apology, it didn't quite work. He was much bigger than her, yes, but Rusty just laughed again, "you've known for how long?" He took a step closer, and I could no longer see Rusty. She responded by taking out her twin daggers, calmly surveying Mars' face, "Let's see," she paused and cocked her head to the side, as if she was pretending to think deeply about it. "How about as soon as we cleared out?"

"So we lost a full day because you… what? Didn't feel like sharing?" Rusty just raised an eyebrow at him and stared, answering his question without a word. A sudden wave of pain ripped through my body and sent me the ground. I stifled a scream, I had reopened the wound. With my eyes level with the leaf covered ground I could already see it start to turn red.

**Avis Byrd, D12F:**

The pain is never ending. I'm not sure if it's gotten better, or if I'm just numb to it, but my arm was barely twitching, and the gauze and bandages I grabbed up from the cornucopia just a few hours ago was doing nothing for it. Any remedy I'd ever learned was of no use to me now. I was too weak to finish any task I tried to complete.

I needed to get away from here, someone would realize that I was still here. This went the long and trying test, and the question "how far can I get before crashing to the ground?". Answer- not very far.

I seem to have been working for hours, getting shakily to my feet, stumbling a few steps then crash to the ground with exhaustion and dizziness, wait for it subside- which could last anywhere from one minute to thirty-, and repeat. It wasn't the smartest way about things, but it was the easiest. My entire arm was swollen, stiff and painful. Any sudden move reopened the wound, which was already bleeding the deep red of blood into the gauze and bandages I half wrapped around what felt like half my body, glad I grabbed more before I left.

Above me, a hovercraft appears. The claw lowers and raises for each body. In a few seconds it disappeared again. It was sick, terrible. Just whistling away the bodies. I can still smell them. The stench of rotting flesh. So perfectly preserved, nothing to disturb them other than the wounds that ended their lives. It doesn't matter now. I just need to get away. Now.

Stumble. Crash. Wait. Stumble. Crash. Wait. Repeat. Over and over again, the thought of go jog back on my mind. That, or nothing at all. I just trying not think about the pain. More than that, the hunger. I didn't grab enough food, but I'm too far to go back now. Just keep going. Hope no one finds you.

Eventually, I find a tree. Could I even climb it? I need to. It seemed easy enough, even with one hand. It was slow work, but everything was slow. But I made to a safe spot, where the leaves would hide me from any wanderers or hunters that might pass underneath. Finally, I can sleep. Just in time for the anthem. No deaths. Uneventful second day. If only

Tomorrow could be the same.

_Long as it's not me _

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

"Chrystal!" I rolled my eyes, watching as the next scene play out. Mars running to the sweet injured doe's side. Just put her out of her misery. At least she'll die eventually, I didn't need to be the villain, not yet, anyways. But there's always time for that later. Mars picked up Chrystal and carried her about 20ft from where I sat sharpening a stick with one of my blades. I brushed the wood shavings off my lap, wondering whether Mars meager strength and stamina gave out at that point or if he didn't realize that if I took at least two silent steps in their direction, I would be able to hear every word. Knowing them, it was probably both.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," obviously not. I laughed to myself, earning an odd look from Jasper and Celestyn. The two of them had been getting pretty close. For a moment I imagined them conspiring against me, then I shook it off. Neither was smart enough.

"Chrystal-"

"If I die-"

"Don't say that-""I'm going to. Don't lie to me. Or yourself. If I die, just do me a favour, okay?"

"Anything," lap dog. I was interested, what did Chrystal want him to do? But she leaned in, whispering into his ear. Whatever it was, I can't trust either of them. Never could, just reminded of that now.

In these games, nothing is ever certain. But there's one thing I'm absolutely sure about:

If she's not dead by this time tomorrow, I'm killing her myself.

Just as I settled in, imagining Chrystal's face in the sky, someone finally came to collect the bodies. The hovercraft appeared over head. Finally, whoever had been there had left. A rare wave of rage washed over me, only to be replaced by a more comforting thought. Four deaths compared to one?

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

Night two and I'm in the same position. There's something about darkness that makes people more willing to share. Spill their guts out. I always had the most meaningful conversations with Rhyse in the dark of night. Then again, a lot of the things I do don't see the light of day. But here was Ash, not sleeping and instead talking to me. About all sorts of things. It's like he doesn't realize that there's someone listening in. I'm quiet, just listening. Do I do it now? Do I end him? No. I can't. For a second night the humane side of me takes precedence. I imagine Charon, Hero all the others screaming at their TVs. Calling me all sorts of names. Coward, Weak link, Small willed. It's all true. But instead of acting on any murderous temptations I just settle in.

I'm weak, definitely. But there's no getting around it. Not yet.

**Alliances**

Celestyn Scoles, Rusty Steele, Jasper Knopp, Chrys Wolfe, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold


	25. Chapter 25- Day 3: pt 1

**So... I'm sorry I have been updating as much. I've had a really stressful month or so, and I've been trying to write through it, but I just end up with this mess you're faced with right now. I'm doing my best, but I'm not going to be able to update as quickly as before. Sorry guys and gals, hope you enjoy**

**Chapter 25- Day 3: morning/afternoon**

**Abilene Ackerman, D11F:**

When I woke up Winstead was gone. The cannon's crack of thunder announcing that someone's dead. No. It can't be. Where is he? Please say that he's okay. Do I call out for him? No, that might mean the end of me too. But I can feel panic rising in my chest. In my head. Everywhere. So I call out for him quietly,

"Winstead? Winstead?" it didn't do anything, but fuel the panic. Calm down. Calm down. I keep telling myself, but nothing's working. So I call out louder. Nothing's happening. Nothing. Nothing. I can already feel the tears starting to pour. It's seems like a millennia passes in that single second. Or maybe it was a millennia. Maybe an eternity just slipped right through my finger tips.

"Abilene?" I froze. Turning to the voice. And he's there. A hand behind his back, he walked out from behind the treeline. He saw me, my surely red face, but I couldn't care. He's fine. He's okay.

His careful eyes are trained on me, concern written in the crease between his eyebrows.

"Abilene? What's wrong?" I can't find the words.

"You-you. You jerk!" I shove his shoulder, and he's so surprised that he actually stumbles back.

"What?" I broke then, laughing. With the tears still streaming down my face. I know I should be quiet, but I don't care. We're both okay. For now, we're both okay, and right now, that's enough.

Except apparently it's not for Winstead. Because he still looks concerned. Maybe scared, even. That might be my fault. Surely I look out of my mind. Puffy eyes, red faced, sobbing and laughing all at once,

"Abilene? What did I do?" he takes one of my hands, the other one still behind his back. How do I put it into words? His hand is so warm, even warmer than his dark brown eyes. I oush his stupid hair out of his stupid eyes, staring right through him.

"I heard a cannon I thought- I thought- I thought you were dead!" I want to slap that stupid expression of his face. No, it's not stupid, it's Winstead. My Winstead, who's here in the games, with me, by some cruel twist of fate.

"A-" he falters, doubt and pain and quite possibly regret on his face. He tries again, "Abilene. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Ar-are you okay?" His eyes trail me, making sure I wasn't injured. I don't know why I would be, but he needs me confirm it was a "yes. I'm fine," and a smile. The tears aren't falling anymore, but surely I'm all red. Not that it matters.

Once I was fully calmed down, I realized that one hand was still behind his back. I tug at his sleeve, playfully,

"Winstead, what are you hiding?" he shrugged,

"Close your eyes," he whispered. I did, not needing any more persuasion. His other hand slipped from mine, and the air seemed colder the minute he was no longer touching me. Then his hands are at the hair beside my ear, brushing it aside. Then something is slid behind my ear.

When I opened my eyes, he was in front of me, probably redder than I am. I move my hand up, touching the silky petals of a flower, tucked delicately behind my ear,

"You're prettier than any flower." that line again. Right before we were separated, on that first day in the Capitol, he had said the very same thing. It's seems so much more important this time. So meaningful. We were so close right now, I could kiss him if I wanted to. That's when I know I do want to. I know I've wanted to as long as I can remember.

Oh my god. I'm in love with Winstead Dale.

He sees the realization on my face, up close enough to see the small freckles on my cheeks and nose, surely, "what's wrong?" I shake my head, leaning closer, going up on my tip toes to reach eye level. He knows what I want to do.

"Can I?" I breathe. I practically just form the words on my tongue,

"Only if you mean it," came the reply,

"Well in that case…"

Kissing him is all I imagined and more. It's Winstead. Nothing more. Nothing less. So pure, and perfect. His lips are soft, hands coming to my waist. He just holds me. In the back of my mind, I know that someone, somewhere, is watching us right now. But I don't care. This moment feels intimate, and even if it's a lie, it feels true enough to keep doing it.

Finally, he pulls back,

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Winstead says. I giggle, giddy and stupid. Stupid with Winstead,

"Too bad I beat you to it." he smiles, showing off his white teeth, bottom row just slightly crooked,

"At this, I'm okay with losing," and we're kissing again, and just for the time being, it seems like nothing can be wrong in the universe.

**Mars Marker, D4M:**

Boom

I rolled over, bolting upright. Please no, please no.

"Chrystal?" I shook her shoulder gently, but that was before I noticed how stiff my clothes were, how it clings to my skin. No.

"Chrystal!" More urgency this time. Again and again, but she didn't wake up. She looked so peaceful. So… dead.

"And then there were four," Rusty, behind me. I lowered Chrystal's body to the ground, gently, before whirling on Rusty. I can't believe she's gone.

"Did you kill her?" I demand, voice thick with unshed tears. She laughed in my face, taking a step so that she was just inches from me,

"No," I didn't believe her, not for a second. No one did.

Chrystal is gone. I hadn't even gotten to kiss her. No, that's stupid, you have a girlfriend Mars, I tell myself. It doesn't work. We didn't even know each other. That doesn't change what might've happened.

I stopped myself before I was within striking distance, staring into Rusty's cold eyes.

"Hey," Celestyn got up, nudging Chrystal with a foot, "both of you. Stop. Or," a realization seemed to come to her, "just keep on fighting. Take each other out. Hell, why not take all of us out too?" She unsheathed her weapon, bringing it up into a fighting stance.

In all honesty, I want to. Just take them all out now. It would be easier. What was the point of Chrystal wasn't here. I could feel the tears start to well up. No! I can't. Not in front of all of them. Just think of what Rusty has surely done to her. Killed her no doubt. Just wait until tonight. That's what Chrystal has said. If I couldn't keep her alive, then I could at least honor her wishes.

_"If I die, take them all out. Take them all by surprise." _her voice whispers in my ear. A ghost. I'm being haunted by… whatever she is to me. I have a girlfriend. Yet, somehow, Chrystal seems so much more than Bay. Superior in every way. Except the living aspect. In that, I guess Bay has her beat. But that doesn't matter right now. I'll honor her wishes. They will all be like Chrystal soon enough.

**Jean Hughes, D8M:**

Where was she?

Looking around, I found that no one was here. That was actually kind of stupid, considering all the stuff was left completely unguarded. Maybe I should just leave now, take all that I can carry and get away from here. But I can't. If I run now, she'll certainly hunt me down. That just seems like the kind of thing she'd do.

And that cannon… it might've been hers. My ally might already be gone, and if she wasn't, what was taking her so long? Taking a bite of an apple I had taken from one of the burlap sacks. It was sweet and crisp, perfect. Screw that. Nothing can be _that _perfect, not in here. I throw what's left of it behind me, hearing a dull splash as it landed in the lake. Threw it farther than I thought, cool. If worse comes to worse, surely this lake or one like it will be the only water left. At a certain point, whenever there's a lull in the action.

So, any minute now. There was a death a little earlier. All I know it's not mine. Which means I'm that much closer to living through this hell. Fulfilling all of Mr. Hughes bullshit.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

_It was never quiet. It was always screaming, so much screaming._

We had been silent for hours, trading footsteps as a means of communication. A steady left, right, left, right, left, right. The gravel beneath us crunching with every step and sun beating down on us. I could already feel the sweat beading down my neck, making my hair damp. But I'm not pulling back, no way. It's bad enough when you can only see the vaguest outline of the scars through my hair, it's even worse when you can actually see them. All three lines, raised and puckered, pale, pale white. Ghostly and unnatural. I touch them now, just as Athena's head shot up, like some sort of dogs, who just caught a scent. Her eyes were fixed on some, somewhere, in the distance.

"Athena," it's like she's not even listening to me, doesn't even hear me. She stands just like that, and in another minute she went off like a rocket, sprinting away, _I can never get away. I'm trapped here with my own thoughts, my own blood, _

"Athena!" panicked, and startled, the only thing that seems logical to my brain at this moment is to follow. At this point, if someone hears me, they won't come. Anyone this far from the cornucopia only wants to run. That's us. Cowards, the pair of us. But cowards live to see dawn the day after hell is raised and right now seems quite hellish.

How does she not fall? The rocks underfoot are all different sizes, and I've stumbled at least five times. Athena looks like she running the training room floor. There's an incline now, and it's like we're climbing a summit. My breathing coming harder and harder as we go, surely we must be near the top now,

"Athena!" it's breathy and quite, surely whipped away with the wind long before it meets Athena, "Athena, where are we going? Guess I'll find out soon enough," the last bit came as she suddenly stopped, staring down at the ground. I was actually pretty close. Just a few more taxing steps and I'm at her side, staring at the ground, about 400 feet below. A cliff, but the bottom wasn't where her gaze was fixed. It was fixed on the platform, just a little ways down. The ledge that looked to lead into a cave. A cowards safe haven. I laughed, leaning in and hugging Athena with one arm, like I used to with little Hayley. Only Hayley would pull away right now, and if anything, Athena was leaning into it. How old was she? 13? 14? She seemed so young, but so ancient at the same time. I smiled to myself, a sad smile, but one all the same. This girl was probably like me. Hurt in some way. So frail, and that fear in her eyes. But strong too. Strong enough to make it past whatever haunted her.

"You, Athena, are a genius," I look over to see her eyes start to well up. She's crying. What had I done? I try to think about what it might be, but then I realized it probably just this whole experience. The hunger games should bring a lot more than just tears. It's whole panicky episodes, all the time. Damn, this girl is brave.

"C'mon. Let's get down there," she nods, physically unable to do anything else, and I climb down first, dropping down to the rock. It's stable. I tell her as much, and in another moment she's beside me. How had she even found this place? I don't know, and right now, I don't need to. She was sweet.

"How old are you?" I question, just out of curiosity. She shrugs, holding up all her fingers, then dropping them to put up another five. Fifteen. Only two years younger than me. Just a year older than I was when…

_"You're mine. You always will be."_

I'll never get rid of that voice. It's always there. Waking and sleeping. I shiver, leaning into Athena again. She likes the comfort of human contact just as much as me. It's hard to imagine someone like her, murdered. Innocent blood spilt.

Just thinking these thoughts has me in a downward spiral, back right through all that pain and trauma, reliving those days for the rest of my almost certainly cut-too-short life.

**Ash di Angelo, D12M:**

Mica is the most intense person I've ever met, and I've been friends with Tracker for years. None of the traps we've circled back to have caught anything, and she's not happy,

"But I can hear the animals," Mica had said, "there should be plenty of games in the woods."

"Maybe," I had responded, "but none that we've found," that earned a dark glare.

Currently, she was just staring off into space, her hands frozen in the midst of a new trap, this one being weaved from a collection of leaves. But her thoughts were elsewhere, mine are too. Here's my moment. Stepping up in a silent step behind her, I put bat hands over her eyes. I was about to whisper something funny or maybe smart. Actually, I got half the words out before the hands grabbed my wrists and the world turned upside down.

Why am I staring up at the sky? The clear cloudless sky. More important question: why is a sharp rock pressed up against my neck. I could already feel my skin splitting under the sharp edge.

"Who ar… oh. Oh," the pressure in my neck is gone but the wheezing ache still there, and I can't seem to breathe, "you are such an idiot. I could have killed you," my vision slowly focuses on Mica, grey eyes flashing, choppy brown hair bending st gravities will and getting in her eyes.

"What were you thinking?" I try to laugh, but it's just more wheezing.

It takes a couple tries to get out the words. Wow, who knew it could be so hard to breathe,

"I… was try… trying to lighten the mood," she rolled her eyes, and she was suddenly gone. Out of sight.

"I can't believe you," she's muttering all sorts of other things under her breath, and I must say her language is rather colourful. Then she cursed again, out loud. Then muttered more about how she ran out of swears, and just like that I was laughing.

"You're crazy," she sighs, "mental," then holds out a hand. I get up, still feeling my lungs and organs left in the ground.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I don't know. I thought that someone was trying to kill me. Adrenaline rush," she did that thing. Where you answer without really answering. Just like I've seen Percy do the very same thing. Whether in interviews, or just talking to my mother, his wife. Even his own daughter.

"Come on," she knocked into my shoulder, "we need to find some water," I turn to follow, the distaste still on her face.

"Wow. that was a little aggressive."

She doesn't respond.

**Blaze Morrison, D9M:**

I'm beginning to see things. Things that aren't there. Like a boy with red hair, running through the trees in front of me. I had run in a frenzied state of joy and rage for a solid hour, chasing him, before I realized he didn't exist. Then seeing another one, a short haired girl with scars all over her face. I haven't been sleeping, I guess it could be chalked up to that. Any minute spent not trying to hunt down my competition is a minute wasted. I plan on being out of here in a matter of days. It'll be that simple, I know it. But apparently, you need sleep to do that.

Apparently, these wimps know how to hide. Or maybe I'm looking in all the wrong places. Either way, I know I need to rest. What's the point of hurting someone if you aren't aware enough to fully enjoy it? Tonight. I'll rest tonight, and be fully recharged for tomorrow's hunt. Not the best idea, but don't have any others.

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

I heard the twig snap before I even realized he was there. Thank goodness for his idiocy, or it might have been the end of me. I had wanted to clear my mind, forget, if only for a moment, where I am. The others were all a long ways away. I can't even see them. But I do see Mars, and I knew instantly what he had tried to do. Because that, knife unsheathed in hand, is what he had come to finish me off with. If the fake sneaking position he was caught in didn't give it away, it was the sheepish guilt he had at being caught written all over his face. We both knew what he had been about to do. We stood in that stand off for a few moments. Just kill him. The little voice was there, directing me. My own thoughts bringing out the hunting instincts. Just end him now and get it over with. I was about to, when a new thought came to me. Jean was surely waiting, seemed loyal enough. I could keep him around, make it a fun fight, One I would win, leaving both of them dead, right after Jasper and Celestyn are taken out. Yes, that would work, each one was equally useless. But maybe I could keep one around. I'd figure out which one when the moment came. I decided that all, before he even said yes. Because he would, or the plan would be all that simpler.

"You have two options here," my voice is quiet, as to not make Celestyn (who's perfect honey blonde hair was just visible beyond the trees. Even in this place, it looks great) aware of what was happening, "option one. I kill you, then kill Celestyn, then kill Jasper. Or, the much preferred option two. We team up. The two of us take on Celestyn and Jasper, and get out of here, as a smaller, much improved, career pack."

I take out one my swords, reminding him of his inadequacy. I could beat him easily, that's not a question at all. He's a reaped career. An outcast. The other one's already dead. He stood there, silent and stony, for another few seconds before spitting something out, finally,

"What? Why?" I scoff, his face turning red, he had a nice face. No scars. I could change it, make him carry the same burdens I do. Which are more than what Chrys had, mine were real, nothing to do with training, even if that's the lie I tell everyone. Even me.

"You know what you were coming over here to do. Let me guess, it was Chrys's last request?" the last part went up in a whiny, childish voice. A cruel smile just as jagged as any scar crossing my lips.

"It's survival of the fittest here. and you might just be lucky enough to fit into that category," I point the sword teasingly at his throat, he's close enough that I could dig it right through his vocal chords, "if you trust me."

I'm still ready to slice him down, cut him to little pieces and move on, just give into the lust for blood instilled in me. The walls around him crumbled, a sigh forming on his lips.

"Okay. Let's get this over with," I move past him, tapping him on the shoulder,

"Wise choice." I pull out my second sword, getting myself into the mental state I get myself to whenever I'm about to fight. Thoughts, all varying levels of violence, running a mile a minute. I can do this. It'll be enjoyable to say the least. I can already picture the surprise on their faces, a moment before they realize it's too late.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" he came up behind me, small knife out. Surely that's not his regular weapon. Yeah, where's his trident?

"We take them by surprise. Pretend like everything's normal, then when I say so, take them out. You take Jasper, got it? And I'll help if you need it, soon as I'm finished with Celestyn. Understood?" Even now, I couldn't take out Jasper. It would be a betrayal to my district, make me a pariah when I get back home. I look back and he nods, clearly unhappy with being the beta, taking instructions instead of dolling them out. Sorry, but alpha is a title I bear alone.

"Great. Let's get over there." none of them knew what was coming, not even my new ally. I had to smile, laughing to myself at a joke no one else could ever understand.

**Jasper Knopp, D2M:**

"Celestyn?" She stands up, leaving her weapon, a long curved sword, on the ground where she was sharpening it.

"What? You okay?" I shake my head, pulling out both knives,

"We need to get out of here. Now," I look over my shoulder, neither Rusty nor Mars had noticed me there, and I heard every word. Both were still out of sight, but not for long.

"Why?" I would question me too, but right now we don't have time,

"I just overheard Rusty and Mars. they plan on betraying us early. Now, come on, if we leave now then we might have a shot. I try to pull her along but she refuses, standing there like a statue.

"No."

"Are you crazy? What are you waiting for?" the frown on her face screams disapproval.

"No. we aren't running away scared. What are we? We're careers. We're better than both of them, easy. We can take them." I nod, trying to put that into my mind.

You were chosen for a reason. Yeah, said another voice, you were simply second best. It should be Peter. No. I need to stop second guessing myself.

"Okay. I guess there's a fight coming," I smile, looking up to the cameras that are surely fixing themselves on my face, "are you ready?" I'm asking everyone, not just Celestyn, but everyone. I can practically imagine all the capitolites screaming at their broadcasts. Yes! Yes!

"You bet I am," and to prove it, her sword is up and she's ready to start swinging. I can feel the Capitols joy. There's going to be a fight. There's going to be bloodshed. And it won't be mine.

**Jovanni Gold, D8M:**

Both of Dawn's braids are a mess. She'll have to redo them soon, or take them out. I've only seen her a few times with her hair down. The last time, we were ten. Before everything went wrong, back when we were still as close as two people could be.

"What?" it took me a moment to realize she was looking at me. And I had been staring, for just a little too long.

"I- no- I mean, nothing," I could already feel the blood rush to my face. She scoffs,

"Yeah? I'm sure it is," we were both pretty awale now, sleeping through half of yesterday and waking up early today, hours before the cannon.

"Who do you think it is?"

"What? Who do I think what is?" oh. Oh, crap, I had actually spoken out loud,

"Whoever died this morning. Who do you think it was?" She stopped, turning back to me from the small river, "I don't know. It could be anyone. All I know is it's one step closer to going home," and as far as I'm concerned, she will.

"You hungry?" the sudden change in subject gave me pause. It took me a moment to reorient myself. She was holding out some crackers and pemmican, each one in their sealed packaging, slightly opened from when we had eaten the smallest bit of each yesterday.

"Yeah," I was starving, but that's not exactly unusual. I sat next to her, the stream softly rushing, masking any noise we might make. No one would be able to hear us. Hell, I can't even hear myself. For some reason, this meal is the best thing I've ever had. Anything will on an empty stomach.

After the minutes of nothing but the rushing water to keep our thoughts occupied I try to talk to her,

"So, are we ready to go?" She shrugged, unable to hear I said. She said something back, but I couldn't hear it something along the lines of _"what?"_ I try again. Asking again, to no success. Then, just because I need to say it out loud, prove to myself that it's real. Real to me, at least,

"I think I love you." She didn't hear it, but the fact that I finally said it to her, to her face, lifted a weight off my chest. She leans in,

"What did you say?" she screams in my ear,

"Nothing. I mean- let's get going!" I shout back. She agrees, and we pack up, both canteens newly filled with stream water and a few drops of iodine in both. I had finally said it. Worked up the guts to say it... and she might as well have been deaf.

_Man up, Jovanni. _I shake it off, starting out walk into no man's land.

Just then, all around us seemed to blow up with noise. Birds, these ones small and dark, chittering to one another. I look at Dawn, and we say it at same time.

"Run!"

Maybe they're all harmless, but this is the hunger games, and if it's not harmful, then it doesn't belong here. As I suspected, about half of the chases after us. The other ones going in the other direction.

One was loud and right by my ear. I swat at it, panic choking the breath out of me. I need to keep going. Keep up with Dawn. Suddenly I hear her scream.

"Dawn?" Up ahead, she's on the ground, about half a dozen birds viciously going in at her in that defenceless state.

"No!" I look around for anything, anything, I could use. A long branch. A dozen rocks. I grab both, and start throwing the rocks. Could I have hit Dawn? Maybe. Was it really stupid? Probably, but Dawn was being attacked, and I had to do anything to help.

The first one fell short. The second hit, making dull contact with one of the couple of birds. It drops to the ground with a dejected squawk. The others are taken out too. Dawn looks up, blood dripping into her eyes.

"Oh- oh no. Dawn. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" I help her sit upright, immediately rummaging through my bag for something to stop the bleeding.

"I'm fine. I..." She stops me, and I look up. She must see the worry in my face, "I'm fine. Head wounds bleed a lot. It's just a couple of surface scratches. I'll be fine." She's so close. Why are we so close? She seems to notice, and immediately scoots away.

"Now, let's get of here. I don't want to find any more of those mutts," I nod, dejected. We had been so close. I had even told her how I feel. I should have just kissed her. No, that would have been to weird. Whatever I do is weird. It'll always be weird.

"You think those were mutts?" I asked it just because I wanted to sound like I was fine. Because I am. _I am. _

"Absolutely. Normal birds don't just attack for no reason," and that was a start of a long argument. It was nice. Easy. Normal. That has to be enough. For now.

** I'm doing eulogies at the end of each day, so next chapter. I promise it'll be sooner rather than later**


	26. Chapter 26- Day 3: pt 2

**Chapter 26- Day 3: Afternoon and Evening **

**Celestyn Scoles, D1F:**

You wouldn't know it by our faces, but all four of us had murder on our minds. We were all talking like normal, if a little tense. There were even some smiles, tossed carefully between us. Too bad my eyes weren't up at their faces. I was focused on their weapons, and their twitching fingers, itching to grasp their weapons. I was face to face with Rusty, and she seemed just inches away from me. I took a step back, finally looking up to her face, I saw the sly grin there. Then her mouth curled into a sneer.

"Now!"

She charged at me with cat like speeds, why do I like cats again? Both of her swords were out in an instance, swinging at me. Too bad my own sword was already out. No time to think, just go. The chink of sword on sword bounced around my brain. But I was already under weaponized. She had her two swords, and I only had one.

I swung, aiming a jabbing blow to her heart, but she caught it with one blade, swinging the other one right into my leg. I let out a shriek before containing myself. I'll figure out the seriousness of the wound later, but right now I need to survive this. As I keep stumbling backwards, the swings keep coming. Deflect, avoid. Deflect, avoid. I'm losing, badly. What's wrong with me?

"You okay there Celestyn? You look like your struggling a bit. Need a hand?" she brought the hilt of her sword down onto my hand. I could practically hear the bones crack. The shriek is louder this time, accompanied by tears. They were gone the next instant, but I definitely have a broken hand. I want to live long enough for it to set properly. Consider it a goal.

"Oh, I'm sorry," her smile was still there, it looked identical to when she finished off that boy form 7. I'm not going to end up like that.

Making a mad dive for my sword, my forearms and elbows banged against the tightly packed soil. That would leave a couple solid bruises. Just as I had the hilt in my fingertips, Rusty kicked it away. My injured hand is tucked into my side, where the least impact would occur. I looked up just in time to deflect the sword that was about to pierce me through the heart. It stung like hell, and I had surely cut my forearm on the side of the wicked blade. As long as it's not my heart I'm fine.

Bringing up my feet, I manage to get a good kick into her stomach. She stumbles back and grunts in pain, which is understandable, I know how much being kicked there hurts. She's in pain long enough for me to grab my sword again, and put it in my other hand. We're close enough to the stash of weapons for me to grab one, and I would have considered it, if she hadn't caught up to me. I caught a glimpse of the boys -the fight looked pretty even, which meant it would be grueling and slow- and then her sword was at my throat again. Her face was so close, I could smell her sickly sweet breath, with the other sword placed behind my back.

There have only been a few moments in my life where I couldn't find the bright side to a situation. This seems like a good moment to add to the list. I need to be serious, to calm my racing heart.

"Who knew it would be this… easy," all she had to do was press the edge into my throat, kill me. But i still have a chance. Taking a risk, I swing up my own sword, forcing hers away from my throat, before the trickle of blood started running its way down my neck and chest. The wound stung even worse than the others, but it's kind of dulled. Then the one that cut through my back kicked in.

As much pain as I feel, I'm almost detached from it. I'm sure it'll feel worse in a couple hours. Possibly a couple minutes.

The fight didn't end there, instead, she just kept coming at me. Swinging violently, face flushed with fury. There was blood dripping down her cheek. I had cut her, I had really done it. But I might end up paying for it with my life. Dodging away, I started stumbling backwards, not seeing where I was going, but it didn't matter. I just needed some time to wipe the blood from my neck.

That was the exact moment I felt the water. The lake. Panic finally started to set in. Onyx. Like Onyx. No, I can't think about him, not now. A guttural scream practically shattered my ear drum. I looked to it just in time to see her come for me. Knocking me over and into the water.

I've always had a fear of water. Not entirely sure where it started, but it was mostly just fear of the unknown. But the shrieking ache in my chest demanded attention. _You're in danger,_ my heartbeat says, _you need to get out of here, _it screams_. _But I can't. The rocks on the bottom are jagged, and one slices my forehead open. The water brings a new kind of sting into the new cut. My breaths escape in small bubbles, getting to the surface, while I drown underneath it.

After a long while of struggle my head breaks the surface. I was relieved until the hand was at my throat. I can see Rusty's face. See the smirk. I just want all this to be over. I just want her to die. To leave me alone. Back under I go, a tidal pool forming around me. The process repeats as after almost an eternity later, I'm pulled back up. Get a half lungful of air before being shoved back down.

Water fills me up inside, and I'm choking on it with every breath. I got one lungful of fresh air before the hand shoved me back down into the water. Light headed, my struggles are futile. The water turns pink with my blood, and the stench of metal taints the air. I can even feel it under the water.

"Had enough?" I'm dunked back under again, only for her hand to wrench me up again by my pony tail, ripping out a few strands with its careless and claw-like fingers.

"Tell me?" I can't see through the blood. It's running into my eyes, my mouth. It in my hair. I'm dripping with water too, and the chill was unimaginable. "Do you want me to just finish this?" There was a knife up and pressed to my cheek. Where had she gotten a knife?

"J- Just- Just let me go," her hands crudely wipes the hair, water, and blood from my eyes. It stung the gash on my temple, but I didn't cry out. It didn't matter, I'll die anyways, I might as well do it with some dignity.

"Now, now," I was able to see now, and what I saw was the cold, hard smirk in Rusty, "where's the fun in that?"

She shoved me down unexpectedly, and in the next moment my head had once again hit the rocky bottom. It couldn't be that deep. I just need to push off, escape Rusty. But in my efforts to get away, I just got closer. Her boot was hard and fixed firmly on my throat. It would have choked the life out of me anyways, but underwater I had no chance.

I just need to breathe. To stop this burning in my lungs. It's like I'm about to explode. Everything I do is futile. I've taken my last breath. I'll never go back up. I'll die here, and join Onyx in death. I won't be alone, just gone. Except I guess my death is a little more public. Though, it's not like his wasn't. Everyone in the District knew. My friends, my trainers, the strangers on the street, they all gave that poor child quick glances. Looking at little Celestyn with such pity and disgust. In district 1, you don't just kill yourself. Especially not when you supposed to volunteer for the hunger games the next day. The cowards way out, and he took it all the way to hell.

Weak and injured, I can feel the struggle leave my body. I just… relax. Let go of this world. I guess it wasn't meant to be. The burning my chest lessens as I let go of the world. More like the world lets go of me.

I should have won.

**Winstead Dale, D11M**:

Abilene is just so perfect. Sitting across from her on the mossy ground, I watch her laugh and smile, two things that don't belong in the Hunger Games. Just like Abilene.

She poked my shoulder,

"What are you staring at?" she laughed

You, is what I want to say, but instead I just shrug, "the flower," her hands go up and gently run along the petals. They're already starting to wilt, the white petals all curled and shrivelled up. Not good enough, but to be honest, nothing is. I'll need to get her another one tomorrow.

"Thank you, again," I laugh, my smile even larger than hers, and lean in. She does too, almost like she's unaware of the movement. Taking one of her hands, I drop the canteen into it, and plant a light kiss on her forehead, "no problem."

She shakes the canteen beside her ear as I settle back into my spot,

"It's almost empty," she says, and we both know we won't get anything else to drink for a couple hours, when the iodine has fully cleansed the water, "you should have it," she tried to give it back, but I put both my hands behind my back,

"No. you should have it. Stop being your stupid-perfect self and just take it. I'm not thirsty, anyways," okay, that last bit might have been a lie, but whatever. She doesn't need to know. Finally, she gives in, finishing off the last couple of sips.

When she's done, she hands it back to me, and I go through the process I've already finished multiple times in the past few days. Fill with the gurgling water. Check. Drop in the iodine. Check. Place in my bag. Check. Wait for the iodine to finish up with all the bad in the water. Pending.

"Okay. we have everything. Let's keep moving," she nods, and without even acknowledging it, she slips her hand into mine as we start to walk. But she is still smiling, and I am too.

**Athena Lightes, D3F: **

"_Athena?" I look into the shadows, where the voice had come from. Soft and lilting, I squint into the shadows. That's when I see her, Ariande. I had only met her a few months before, but she was kinder than anyone else had ever been. Her eyes are wrinkled in an honest smile, pulling me into the shadows of a generator. I'm smiling as wide as she is, which is something that hasn't happened in a long time. _

"_There you are. I've been looking for you," clearly not that hard, she's been here for hours, surely. But that's just Ariadne. She likes to hide in the dark spaces, stuck inside her head for hours and hours. She probably started looking for me a couple of hours ago and had just gotten distracted. Come to think of it, the darkness, it might have been what had drawn her to me. And not just the darkness in the alley. _

"_Are we still on for tonight?" right, tonight. She wanted me to sneak out, to go out on a midnight adventure with her. Something that shouldn't be too hard, I mean it would be a miracle if Dad hadn't drunk himself under the table already. It was no question as to why we never had enough food in the house. _

_I nod, mouthing a "yes" to her. She giggled, somehow grinning wider than before. Her entire face was made up of her perfect, happy smile. _

"_Great. Acer's coming too, this will be so much fun," Acer Chriss. I don't know him all that well, but anyone whose made into Ariadne's good graces must be a saint. Still not entirely sure why she ever even looked at me. _

_She pulls me deeper into the shadows behind her, and I can no longer see the empty streets of district three behind me. It's just me and Ari, and no one else exists. _

"Athena?" the wrong voice called out my name. It wasn't the from blonde, green eyed beauty that was Ariande. It's a dark haired girl with scars running over an entirely different face. This one wearing an expression that would never be worn by Ariande. Concern. It's Lillith. Shake my head, as if that will get the memories out of my head. I can just barely see her face in the dark cave. More shadows. Only this time I'm not looking at the face of a girl now dead. No, that's just the unfortunate, and likely, future. The future where both of us are dead.

"You okay?" is anyone in here ever really okay? Nodding, I slide back, against the cave's wall. It's cold seeps through my jacket, and the chill seems to calm my racing heart. I nod, then try point back at her. She gives me a small smile, one without any real happiness behind it, as a way to say she understood. That she knew I had turned the question back on her,

"Yeah. I'm-" she hesitated, looking outside to where the dull drizzle of rain had started a little while ago, "-I'm good," she finally finished the sentence. Just as she did, the drizzle turned into a pouring rainfall. Thunder boomed along with it.

Her jacket was outside, the water repellent side out, collecting droplets of the clean rain water. For later. Which meant that poor Lillith was shaking with the cold. She's moving around, trying to stay warm,

"Wh- why is it so cold?" we both knew the answer, _because the gamemakers want to see us struggle,_ but that isn't the point, the point is just to say it out loud. I shrug, then gesture her closer. Cold and tired, she does. It's just us right now, no tragedies. No hunger games.

Except for her. Except for the spot where something terrible happened. Where three long scars marked her pretty face. Tragedies. These games are a tragedy, us kids are tragedies, the entire country is just a freaking tragedy. My blood was practically boiling hot angry tears come. It's not enough that they completely obliterated and entire district, they have to spend the next 126 years watching the children of the survivors brutally murder each other. They might as well have swung the swords too. Throw the knives. Land the fatal blow.

How dare they. How can the Capitolites see these games as entertainment? Watch the children of their enemies fight it out, bloodsport. I didn't realize I was making fists until I saw his white my knuckles had turned. No, I can't get angry. Bad things happen. Instead I lean into Lillith. She hadn't noticed anything in my eyes, didn't see the anger and hatred there. She was just tired. And cold. Taking off my jacket, o throw it over our legs. It's not much, but it's something. If only we had managed to grab a sleeping bag, or two, we would be so much better off right now.

"Thank you," she whispered. I could barely hear it over the rain. I doubt the Capitol could pick up in the simple words. I look over at her, _what for? _She sees the question in my eyes, I know she does, but she doesn't answer. Instead she sighed, settling back against the wall and leaning even more heavily onto my shoulder,

"I'm tired. We should sleep until the storm dies," I'm tired too. It's been an exhausting week. Hell, life is just exhausting. So I lay my head down on hers, and fall asleep to the patter of rain and with a chill in my bones.

**Avis Byrd, D12F: **

In the gamemakers collective mind, I'm sure now is the point when I accept my fate, when I give in and say I've come to terms with my life. Accepted the crappy hand dealt to me and just die in peace. Even better, they can fantasize about me begging, pleading, for my life back. I'm sure they want me to break into a million pieces and forget myself. But I can't do that. Not now. If not for me than for Aveline. I'm her only friend, her only bit of family left in this world, and she's mine. She more family than my father ever was. The man who kicked me out three years ago.

I just need to keep going. Keep on walking. Get back up every time I fall down, but first, I need some water, and something to eat. Recharge, then move on. Keep fighting. The water is disgusting, warm and gritty, but it was safe. The sterilizer had done its job, I just wished it could have kept it cool too. At least the crackers were fine, but the salt on them just made me more thirsty. When I was finished with my rations of crackers and the entire canteen, I was still parched. But, I need to move. If I know anything from the woods, is that you need to keep moving. Then, your more likely to be the predator then it's prey. Too bad I feel like a scared little doe. Alone and injured, I probably look the part too. But I refuse to be that. I won't just lay down and die for them.

I can't.

I need to keep going, keep fighting. For Aveline. But for now, just getting out of the rain and cold will be enough. The stupid jacket isn't much of a jacket, the entire arm slit open and useless. But as a tarp, it worked fine enough. Not really, but it was better than the pouring rain soaking through all my clothes. The trees around me weren't much help either,the branches too thin to catch any of the rain pounding down on me.

The water mixed with the dirt, the newly formed mud sloshing up my boots and legs, colder and colder. If I don't die of infection and blood loss I'll certainly die of hypothermia if this doesn't end soon. Please let it end soon. For everyone's sake. Come to think of it, I hardly think that this is very entertaining. Just watching everyone freeze to death wouldn't make an interesting game. No, this is just to wear us out, make us more willing to get the games over with. Well, I'm sure ready to get it over with.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

There were multiple small scratches I got from the birds. One long one running from above my eyebrow into my hairline. Multiple smaller ones, all over my hands, they all sting like all hell. A couple do more than sting. A few even ripped through my shirt, leaving deep gashes all along my back. It would probably be a lot worse if not for Jovanni. But instead of thanking him, I shoved him away, "You could have hit me, Idiot," I had said instead. those rocks were big, and any one could have caused much more damage than any birds. Than any crows. Because that's what had attacked me earlier. All I'm wondering is who knew. Who knew about that nickname? How could anyone have known. Maybe it's just a coincidence. But _maybe _isn't applicable in places like this. Maybe can get you killed.

Even breathing is painful. Thankfully, Jovanni hasn't noticed, god knows I don't need pity from him. I covered it all up with my jacket, and I'm grateful for even the smallest buffer.

Another buffer is the cold hard silence between us. Why isn't he talking? More importantly, why are we not arguing? He must be planning something, hiding something. He must be, every moment with this new version of Jovanni had been a fight, whether it be actual fighting or a battle of words. Except this new version has been in place for years. That night at the interviews though, that's when it started to break. It might have just been a fluke, and he might already be plotting to kill me now that I've fallen for his lies. He probably had a bet with his friends back home, "how long will it take you to kill the freak of nature?" it shouldn't be too long now. I know his friends and I know this new him, and what I know is that each one's amount of patience is less than all their brain power put together, which in all honesty isn't all that much.

Tucked under a wide tree, we sat far apart from each other. His foot slipped on the mud and knocked into mine. I kicked it away, hand going to the handle of the blade tucked into my waistband,

"What?" he said, agitated and annoyed, then, "oh, sorry. It was my fault," I wanted to agree, to fight like we used to, but instead I just look away. The ache in my chest hasn't gone away. I'll need some kind of ointment of medicine if it gets any worse. It's already been a few hours since then, and it's only gotten worse. If I looked at my back now, I'm sure that it would be red and irritated. Gritting my teeth, I look back to him.

"Why did you want this alliance?" He jolts with surprise. Good, I'm keeping him on his toes. Then he smiled, his stupid, genuine, gorgeous smile,

"Because. I miss you. _This_!" He corrected, because god forbid he had any kind of good feelings towards me, just this, "I missed this. We haven't been like this in so long. Talking. Not trying to rip each other to pieces," I had to laugh at the irony,

"You do realize that these death games right? This is the exact time we should be _trying_ to tear each other apart."

His smiles turns sad, eyes dropping. To his shoes, "I know. That's what makes it so bittersweet."

"It's your fault," I get it out before my eyes well up with tears. I turn away,

"I know," I stare off into the pattering rain, focusing on the ripples in the river.

"Wha- I- I mean- good," the tears are back in hiding. I won't cry, not in front of Jovanni, not in front of the whole country. There's no reason to, anyways, "I'm glad," this one comes out more like me. Cold, impassive. The only me Jovanni gets to see. Anyone gets to see.

I turn back to the pattering rain, crossing my arms and hugging myself tight. Taking my bag out from behind me, I pull out my canteen. Silently, I open it and place it beyond the tree. In the few seconds I'm away from the protection of the tree, the back of my head is soaked, and the water is running down my neck as I take my position back up against the tree.

"Smart," Jovanni commented.

"I know. That's why I did it."

"Are you cold?"

"No."

We both know it's a lie. Because I'm shivering. But he is too, so I guess we'll just be miserable together. and cold.

**Acer Chriss, D3M: **

"Honestly, how did I…" I try for the thousandth time to get my foot out of the miniature sinkhole. Just one wrong step and now I've been stuck here for hours. Anyone could find me now, literally anyone. I might have twisted my ankle, but I don't feel any pain, just raw fury. These wasted hours are a time in which I could have found her. But no, instead I'm out in the pouring rain, unable to move. Kneeling down again, I try to move the rocks around the hole, where my left leg is shin deep, but it's useless. The largest rock is stuck under an even larger rock, one I can't get too. I can't pry it up, I would know, it's all I've done for hours.

"Stupid rocks!" I mutter, try to move my foot and being met with shooting pain, as I did last time. The rain stopped with one last strike of lightning. The silence replacing it makes me even more angry. I'll surely be found like this. That's when I was.

The small dark skinned boy stared at me from behind a tree. Cautious. Scared. He couldn't kill me, not even like this. The wrath in my stomach turned to annoyance,

"You!" I call out, I do my best to keep any anger from my tone, but the boy still jumps. He looks like he's about to run off, but instead, I gesture for him to come to me, in the rock bed that meets with the trees.

"Please, come here," I don't use that voice unless I'm talking to my sister. Mag. I haven't even thought about her in days. Yet there's no sadness, no regret, only annoyance. She always needed to be coddled, as if she was the younger sibling. Of course, this would be no different. He's probably my age, maybe a year younger. Which means less than a year, considering I turned sixteen just weeks before the reaping.

Slowly, he crept to my side, far enough away that I couldn't get to him. At least he's smart.

"I need your help," my voice is calm. Eerily calm, it even makes me feel uncomfortable, "get me out of here." Conflict on his face says he knows he shouldn't, yet he wants to.

"Why should I?" His voice is surprisingly steady, considering he's still shaking in his boots,

"Because I need your help. Please? I won't hurt you, I promise," I won't. He's not who I need to be worried about. I just need to find _her, _and if this prick of a boy can help me with that, than I'd be all the happier. A distraction at the very least.

We stood in a stand-off, or whatever this could be considered, my ankle shrieking with a sudden pain. My face contorted with the raw heat and sharp stabbing, it was like a million hot pokers were being touched to my flesh, in all the weak spots from shin to foot. If I broke it that would be terrible. the game would be over for me then, or at least the fun side. The necessary side. It would just be me hiding out until the rest of them kill each other. That would , he spoke up, "how can I help?" I smiled, tried to make it as honest as possible. As fake as possible, just what he needed to see.

"Just help me lift that boulder," I pointed to it, the rock that I couldn't move by myself. I directed as we both strained to lift the heavy rock. It was hard, but do-able. It probably would have bee easier if the kid ad any upper body strength what-so-ever, but he did enough. enough for me to slide my foot out from under the rock, right before it was sent crashing back to the ground. Rock dust puffed up around the dropped boulder, as if it had been a small explosion. Just then, My mind flashed back to the explosion just the other day, where a small girl with honey blonde hair threw herself to the mines. That had been... interesting. I don't even know her name, and hadn't known her district until it appeared beside the face in the sky that night.

Looking over, I see the kid out of breath, hands on his knees, "You good?" He gave me a thumbs up, still too short of breath to answer, and he couldn't for long minutes afterwards. Seriously, by the time he was half done, I was considering just walking away, he wouldn't notice until it was too late. instead, I just look up to the sky and dramatically roll my eyes. Let the Capitolites make of that what they will.

Slowly, the panting subsides and turn into steady breaths and he finally looks up, and realizes I'm still there,

"well, come on," I say, turning my back on him, and starting up another pile of large rocks and small boulders.

He doesn't follow, so I sigh and turn around, "what? What do you mean?" He was confused, which I guess is understandable, but still annoying.

"You're my ally, are't you?"

"I'm what?"

"You're- We're allies now. You helped me, now I'll help you," _and probably not kill you. _I just need to remember this kids name. Is he from 6? No, they're both dead. 8? No. 5? yes. He must be. Now his name. whatever, I'll remember it later. Hopefully.

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

I have to do it. Before, I thought he might have been growing on me. Nice enough, pretty okay. I still have the flower he made me and everything. It's in my pocket, and hasn't been taken out again since we got into the games, but I still have it.

He has to die. I should have done it yesterday. Should have done it the day before that, but here I am and I need to get it done. Shut off all day, I thought he'd get the message. He should have noticed something. I guess that's why he had tried to _lighten the mood. _The idiot actually thought that would work. In reality I had been contemplating how to kill him in that moment, and for some reason I thought he had read my mind and gotten the jump on me before I could even go through with it. Of course, he hadn't, he doesn't think that far in advance.

"Tell me more about your friends," I suggest. It's dark, the anthem had already played, singing along over the face of the recently deceased, the girl from 4 and from 1. Two careers fallen, already. these game might make quick work of the rest of us too.

"What? Why?" He almost definitely can't see me, probably just sees my shadowy outline.

"Why not. If we're stuck together might as well get to know each other, right?" I'm a liar. I thought these games would change me, but I'm glad that lies still slides easier than any truth on my lips. Lying is all I'm good for. And backstabbing, that one's pretty prominent.

"Yeah, I get that part, but really we're just talking about me. I want to know more about you."

I don't exist. I can't exist. My entire life is a lie and I'd die protecting my younger brother. I can't say any of that. So instead, I go back on the avoidance, it can work miracles for you, just keeping your head down. It works the same way vocally. As little detail as possible,

"I- I- I have a little brother. We look after each other," I consider adding more, but ultimately decide that less is better.

"That's it?"

"That's it," I sighed, "look, this is something I'm not comfortable talking about, okay? My personal life is just that: personal," I watch the dark shadows move in an understanding nod,

"Okay. I'm sorry," _I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you're life is being cut just that much shorter. Not that sorry, it does mean that I'm that closer to getting home to Rhyse. So no. I'm not sorry at all. _

"It's fine. Really."

It went silent after that, until the friends were brought back up. They all sound boring, nothing like my friends back home. Friends? Friends! When had I come to think of any of them as friends?

"I'll take first watch," he offered. no. No, that's what I'm supposed to say. I need to actually do it,

"Now. I will. Seriously, get some sleep," I tried to sound as sincere as possible, but I'm pretty sure all I achieved was fake. He was silent for a second, considering, before finally shrugging,

"Sure. I'm tired." That was easy.

Hours later, and before I can even think about it, his throat is slit, the bloody knife is in my hand, and the cannon cries out with his death. I walked away from the metallic stench, hoping that Rhyse wasn't watching. He knew what I did, but it was entirely different from seeing. This was a hundred times worse. A last look at the body left me with a twinge of guilt. He might have made it far in these games, but here I was to thwart any chances of that.

As I walked, I peeled the small folded flower he had made me in training out of an inner pocket of my windbreaker. It was pretty, but useless. Even though every dealer instinct in me told me get rid of it, I slid back into my pocket with a heavy sigh. It was only a matter of time before the cannon came, followed by a crane to pull away the body. Then the body would be cleaned up and shipped back to 12. Any minute now. And…

Boom

**Drake Ru, D5M: **

We had been walking forever. Even though I was tired and out of breath, we still kept walking. Acer seems to know where we're going so I just continue to follow him, and his slight limp.

"Is that new?" he climbed over a pile of boulders about twice his height,

"What?" he's just ever so slightly out of breath, but it's a lot better than me and my panting.

"You're limp. Is it new?" I feel annoying just asking the question, so I shut up afterwards, and do my best to get over the small mountain. It's a lot higher than it looks, and quite a bit harder to get a hold than Acer made it look like.

"Yeah, idiot. Why do you think I needed your help?" Finally, he took my arm and pulled me over the final stretch of rock,

"Oh, thank you," He jumped down the other side, with me just on his tail.

"Just what are we looking for?" I caught up and am now at his side, but Acer doesn't look at me. His eyes are wondering, looking around for something, but clearly not finding it.

Finally, his eyes meet mine, "not what," he says, "_Who_. My district partner, M-"

"Right. The one who can't talk, or was that district 6? I-"

"That's her. Mute," his teeth are gritted, and his face is filled with emotion. It's angry. A loud fury that dances in his eyes. I can't bear to look away from it, and yet at the same time I need to. This doesn't look like the same person I helped just barely an hour ago, but then the looks fades. It's like he realizes he showed his something he shouldn't have,

"Athena. Her name's Athena Lightes."

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F:**

Blaze looked crazy, even more crazy than when I had first seen him. Eyes are bloodshot and dilated, skin practically transparent, except for the dark circles under his eyes. Had he not slept this entire time? He already looks half dead. Can I get him now? Finally get my revenge? No, not yet. I don't have anything to do it with, and even like that I know he's definitely stronger than me. Even my pride won't get in the way of common sense. Most of the time.

If only I had found a scimitar before he had, but there it was, the only one in the arena as far as I could tell, right in his grasp. I hadn't even gotten a knife when I raided the cornucopia. _Stupid, Sequoia, stupid. _ Which means I'd have to find a rock somewhere, bash his head in, or get my scimitar from him. Too bad his grip on the handle was getting tighter and tighter by the minute. I just needed to wait for him to sleep. It should be any minute now.

Except apparently, zombies don't need sleep. Or maybe they just refuse to sleep. Damn, this guy has willpower, and sheer stupidity. I watched as he keeps stumbling around in his daze. Looking for someone, anyone to kill. Little did her know someone had been within his reach for nearly an entire day. He had een seen me once, but I'm pretty sure he chalked it up to a mirage, just like the ones he had actually been getting, it was actually quite funny, seeing him turn tail and sprint, shrieking bloody murder in pursuit of something even bloodier. The first time he had been shouting about some boy with "hair like the devil", or a girl. He didn't say anything about that one, except of course their fictitious gender. Multiple others had made an appearance throughout the day, and if anything I felt sorry for him. Okay, not really. This was his own doing and I'm just focused on getting a sword in his heart. But if he slept it would make it easier for me.

He doesn't. When the canon went he jolted even more awake, even more angry.

"That should be mine," he muttered, then, louder, "that should me my kill!" I only jumped a little when I heard the fist pounding into the tree. I could practically hear it crack. Once again thankful I didn't try to take him on now. Rage would have made him more awake. I don't need that. But, who's dead? It's a question that will have to wait, the fallen clips have already played tonight, I had climbed up the tree I'm in now to get a better view. Of the fallen, and of Blaze.

Neither of us are sleeping tonight.

**Anala Syrus, Head Gamemaker: **

I've been shut in the control room since the morning of the games, hours before it even began. Haven't eaten much or at all since then either, or slept, or done anything a sane person should in a regular day. But I'm not a regular person, and i'm quite possibly lacking my sanity, I'm not entirely sure. I've been a gamemaker since I was 19, Head gamemaker since 22. I turned 25 thirty-two days ago. Time is precious in a profession like mine. Come to think of it, it maybe thirty-three days ago. I shake off the unpleasant thought , settling back into my work. I'm getting sloppy, it was in moments like this that I can truly see that everyone's thinking it. I can see it on all the faces around. Time for a newer model. A replacement part for our smooth machine. I need to change that, but these games weren't helping. Only seven deaths in three days? The first three days, where the blood was supposed to fall most heavily. I need to speed this along. I called over the assistant I've had for the past year, who's name I've been told multiple times, and forget it just as fast every time.

"Excuse me," she looked up, her steady grey eyes taking a moment to focus on something that wasn't the multiple feeds from inside the arena, the girls from 5 and 3 sitting silently in one of the caves, the hundreds of cameras in their area focusing on them, the feed in that corner switching between the different camera angles,

"Yes?" she was agitated, possibly annoyed that her work had been disrupted, but it was more likely because she was taking orders from someone twenty years her junior. Of course she'd like me to take a decade of that, but I see those wrinkles. Surgeries have gone far, but not far enough to hide the age one carries in their eyes. The two girls huddled close out of cold on the screen,

"Stop the rain fall. Add Serum C35 into 45 percent of all the available water sources, randomly dispersed. Make sure Lake 02 is uncontaminated," when she didn't immediately give her response, I snapped at her,

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Syrus." There. Just as things should be. She quickly spun back around, hands flying on the keyboard, sending out the command and altering the slow moving river. I will not be a failure. There will be enough carnage in the near future to keep this slow day from memory. I went back to my own desk, I'd barely touched my cup of bitter coffee, the only thing keeping me on this side of consciousness. I fingered the bun in my hair. I would need to redo it soon, it was practically falling out. I was practically falling apart. But instead of letting myself, I watched the screen as a new message popped up from one of the many servers. It was from P. Arkanian. So, that was the woman's name.

_P. Arkanian to A. Syrus_

20h23

C35 requested, infusion completion scheduled for 20h43

I closed the message, taking in a lungful of the stiff air. Then I set a countdown in the corner of my own screen.

00h19m59s and counting. I was mesmerized by it for a moment, knowing that what I was about to set in motion was a reminder. Anala Syrus was here to stay. But it was more than that. It was a reminder to the tributes, that I could wipe them out in a second if I felt the urge to. It would be a show of the capitol's strength to any rebellious districts. It was about time. The outer districts were getting fidgety, anxious. Rebellious. All bad things.

00h18m35s

I took a swig of the, now cold, coffee in my cup. I felt the urge to spit it back out right into the cup. I didn't. Instead, I did something I haven't done in ages. I smiled.

* * *

**The Fallen of Day 3**

**Eulogies**

**19: **Chrysanthe Wolfe, D4F: 1 Kill

Stomach injury, inflicted by Blaze Morrison

Crystal… you were the first tribute I recieved, unfortunately, that means she was also the first person I knew had to die. I wanted her to go farther, much farther, but it pushes the story in a direction I couldn't have otherwise. So even though it was so hard to write this chapter, I knew I had to let her go. She was also just fun to write. But it's not meant to be.

**18: **Celestyn Scoles, D1F: 1 kill

Blood loss/drowning, inflicted by Rusty Steele

When I first started writing you, I had no idea what to think of you. I think I started to understand a little better by tolhis point, which is why you had to go. She was originally supposed to get out there, not win but run away. But that's not Celestyn. She wouldn't run, she'd go down fighting.

**17: **Ash di Angelo-Minsto, D12M: 0 kills

Asphyxiation, inflicted by Mica Lee

I'll admit that I liked you. You had good motivation, backstory, personality, and so much more that made you an interesting character to write about. But, you trusted to wrong person. Mica was your downfall. And I must say I'll miss trying to get into his head.

* * *

**Alliances**

Rusty Steele, Mars Marker

Rusty Steele, Jean Hughes

Abilene Ackerman, Winstead Dale

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold

Drake Ru, Acer Chriss


	27. Chapter 27- Day 4: pt 1

**Happy Halloween! I hope you guys are all doing well. I'm sorry I've been busy for the past little while, and I'm still trying to figure out what's going on with me, but while I try to figure that out enjoy another chapter. *shameless self promo ahead* I just started posting this Cinderella retelling if you'd like to read it. Anyways, I hope you like it.**

* * *

**Chapter 26- Day 4: Morning**

**Rusty Steele, D2F: **

Jasper had gotten away. After I had finished off Celestyn, and I went to join Mars on the opposing, he had fled. Smart. Annoying. I'll have to hunt him down later. With two dogs at my side. I duck under a branch, look behind for a fleeting instance to see Mars there, doggedly following my trail.

"Where are we going?"

I sigh, stepping over a patch of spiny shrubs, "I already told you. We're heading back to the cornucopia," He shrieks as he steps into the brush I just avoided. I let a small smile cross my face, before his incessant annoyance comes crashing back through all the noise. Rolling my eyes, I stop and turn around to face him,

"Yeah, but why?" I won't tell him about Jean, not yet. Instead, I give him the other list of reasons I wanted to come back here,

"For starters, we left all those supplies there. We need to protect it while we still can, and it's also the best vantage point for anything the Capitol throws at us," I continue to list all the other reasons, but he stops me,

"Alright, alright. I get it."

"Good."

I turn back around and continue to walk, knowing that we're near the cornucopia, and the horn will be visible at any moment now. Only the pounding of our feet can be heard. It's nice. Peaceful. That's when the reflective metal catches my eye. There. I knew we were close, just hadn't realized how close.

Pointing to it, I quicken my pace, "come on. We're almost there." With a few more strides, and brushing away a few leafy branches, and we're back in the clearing. It looks disturbingly untouched, which means that at least one thing was taken in the time we were away. I hope whoever it was took only one thing. Not that it really mattered. There was still enough to last for weeks in here.

That thought was proven correct as I investigated the cornucopia, sending Mars away somewhere. I'm pretty sure I told him to see if he could find anyone in the surrounding woods. Right now it's time to search the piles, something I would like to do without Mars Marker breathing down my neck.

I was about halfway through a pile of large spare clothes, Chrysanthe's old shirt with the slashed torso and stiffened with red blood by my side, when I heard a distinctly high pitched shriek come from the area I had sent Mars. I laughed, taking my time as I stood and shook out my stiff muscles, then leisurely making my way to the noise,

"Now Mars," I tease, "the bunnies won't hurt you. There's nothing to be afraid of." Except there was no bunny. What I saw first was Mars' legs, kicking and struggling. Following them up, I to his face that was a bright red. His hands were at his throat, trying to pull something away from it. Rope. I laugh, smiling at the next face I saw.

"Jean," I reprimand, "stop that. He's an ally," Jeans rope is pulled tighter around Mars' throat,

"Jean," I repeat with a layer of menace to my tone, pulling out one of my favourite knives, the one still stained with District 7's blood. Just a warning, there's no need to kill either of them. Yet.

Grudgingly, Jean let Mars breathe the much larger boy collapsed in front to he ground, holding hands gratefully to his throat, Jean aggressively wrapped the rope around his hand until formed a small coil and then clipped it into his belt,

"Seriously? That guy?" I laughed, tucking my own weapon away, then monocled his obnoxious tone and I heading,

"Seriously? A rope?" He muttered something that definitely showed off his age, then proceeded to make his way past us. He was so young, a child really compared to Mars and I. Around the same age as that boy from 7, probably 15. A child indeed.

"So now we're all in an alliance? Together?" Mars, still gasping for breath on the ground, manages to spit,

"Yep. that's kind of what an alliance is," I stand over him, waiting for him to get over it. There are worse things than being strangled, I would know. An image slams into my subconscious. Kaz, in another arena and year, standing over Avery's sister, about to strike a fatal blow. There was so much blood. Her body soon cleaved in two. I tried to shake the image off, only for its replacement to fill me with something I haven't felt since I was 13. Fear. Avery and her three brothers, who all shared more resemblance to mountains than flesh and blood humans, standing over me. The pain, the markings on my face that haven't faded in the years that have passed.

"Get your asses out here," Jean's voice rang out from the clearing. Mars sighs, getting shakily to his feet, "Come on," I mutter, sauntering out into the grassy clearing. A sweet floral smell met me, and a grumbling Mars followed behind me.

**Abilene Ackerman, D11F:**

I woke up, only to find Winstead had slipped away. Again. At least this time the panic didn't set in like yesterday. No one could have died yet, anyways. No cannon. He's fine. We're fine. So I sit and I wait, fingering the flower and watching the petals as I twirl the stem between my thumb and forefinger. A few come off. it's already looking dead and withered. Poor flower, it was so pretty, so dainty. So dead.

The first few moments turned into many, and an ache started in my gut. No, he's fine. We're fine. An itch was in my throat, and I hope that's only because I haven't had any water since early last night. The canteen was laying beside me, leaving an indent in the grass when I picked it up. It's warm and gritty, just barely going down my throat and nearly coming back up again. But it didn't.

It took mere moments for the dizziness to set in. it forced me to drop to the ground, probably bruising my knees in the process. I started violently coughing, and my lungs haven't been through this since I first started running. When I look down at my hands, I see red pooling in my palms.

"No," I breathe, "no."

No, I'm fine. I probably just pushed myself too far yesterday, we did run for most of the day. Yes, that must be what it is. So why is there this burning in my veins? I keep coughing up more and more blood. I'm dying. I'm dying. I'm dying.

No I need to calm down, I need to. But I'm crying now, and the pain is getting worse, like I'm in a pit of flames. This can't be happening. It isn't happening. No, this is a dream, a nightmare. It has to be.

But it's not a nightmare, and I'm still here, alone and screaming in pain. Where's Winstead? I'm dying here, and he's nowhere in sight, and it's just getting worse. It's like acid pumping through my blood.

**Winstead Dale, D11M: **

I had found more flowers in a small grove. They had the same perfect white petals as the one from yesterday. I kept looking down at it and smiling like the love-stupid fool I am. A shrill scream cut through the silence of early morning. I'm just a few steps away, but I can't see her through a couple of bushes. Taking out the knife, I prepare myself for whatever scene I might face, but as soon as the second scream sounds I knew needed to act now.

But there's just her on the other side. Alone. I was at her side so quickly, I didn't even realize I had dropped the flower and the knife. She's all that mattered in this moment,

"Abilene? Abilene what's wrong?" She doesn't answer, and I don't think she sees me. Her eyes are open, but unfocused. But that doesn't matter, I just hold her, trying to figure out what's wrong. She can't stop coughing, it hasn't been this bad since we were kids. And there's blood everywhere.

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay. We're okay," I'm running my fingers through her hair, and she's still screaming. We're both crying now, I grab her hands away from her ears. She takes my hands in a death grip.

"No, no, no," over and over again, the hysteria rising in her voice with every breath, "No, no, no, no, no."

There's so much pain there. Finally, she takes a breath and the terrible hysteria stops. Instead, she looks up at me, blood trailing from her lips,

"Winstead?"

"Yes, yes. Abilene I'm here."

"I thought you were gone," she whispers.

I pull her into my chest, "I'm not. I'm right here. I'll stay right here. I'm with you,"

"Water," her voice is brittle, like she's on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. So I look for the canteen, and then when I finally grab it, I untwist the cao and hold it out to her. Taking it in a shaky hand, she turns it over and a full litre of water spills out onto the ground. I'm about to shout but I stop myself, and instead just try to take her hands again, but she pulls away as best as she can. I caught her before she completely toppled over.

"It's the water," she gets out, "don't drink it."

Her eyes roll back in her head, and her body starts violently shaking in my arms. I thought that was the worst part, but no, the worst part was when she fell limp.

"Abilene?" my voice cracks, "Abilene."

I check her pulse, but I can't find it. Not on her wrist, not on her neck.

"No," I mutter, "no, no, no, no," she's dead. I can't believe it. I refuse to believe it. I don't think I move from this spot for hours.

**Acer Chriss, D3M:**

The canon interrupted me as I hunted through a bramble bush for a few edible berries. I was so angry I had to halt the task, my hands were shaking so bad. Fifteen are left. Fifteen. Nearly half of the bodies have been shipped back to their districts, yet Athena still breathes. Unless that cannon was hers. Ah, one could dream. Then again, that kill belongs to me. Drake came running back, out of breath.

"We- we- have to-" he stopped, waited for the heavy rise of his chest to lessen, them said, "we need to get away from here." He had fled from the direction of the forest.

Finally, "We have to get out of here!" sprung from his lips.

"Why?" he muttered something about the cannon, then that something about a dead girl and contaminated rivers. He was already sprinting away, in the direction we just came from. A dead end, with no Mute in the area.

"Five!" I was careful to not be too loud, I don't need to give away our location to anyone else who might be around. "Five! Get back here. Drake!"

My voice was just loud enough to catch Drake as sprints away. But he doesn't stop, sighing, I start a slow jog behind him, catching up in mere minutes -I mean what can you expect, the kid is nearly 10 inches shorter than me- grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to stop and explain. It took him a long time to get it through.

The death was the girl from district 11. She must have drank some poisoned water and it acted in a matter of seconds. I made a mental note to get a vial of the poison, you never know when that might come in handy, and continued to nod encouragingly, managing to coax out the rest of the story. That was only to find that there wasn't actually that much left to tell, except of course his anxious conspiracies about the boy who had been with him. That part was annoying, but I did figure that this boy might become a threat. I know what losing someone does to you, and I can imagine that he'll either kill himself with the loss and go curl into a monstrous rage and go after everyone with this until now untapped anger. At least mine was going about it the right way. I was using it to get rid of the reason for all my pain, he was nowhere to turn for that.

"We should get out of here," I say, knowing we aren't far enough away from whatever's about to happen. He agrees, and we go in any random direction, as long as it's far away from here, and closer to wherever I could find Mute and possibly her little ally. Except that if she had been smart, she would have gotten far away from the psycho.

**Avis Byrd, D12F:**

He was right behind me. Monstrous and angry. With messy red hair and dilated pupils, he looked dead already. Yet he charged after me, feet pounding against the ground with ear shattering noise, breaking branches and trampling the leaves and moss alike under foot. He was a mad animal. Rabid and evil.

I did my best to run. But it was pointless. Weak and dizzy, the world tilted and spun around me, making me crash into trees that seem to pop up out of nowhere. All the whole with the one man stampede behind me. I was always the inter back home, I don't like being hunted. Even the games with Aveline in the woods had never seemed fun. I only played because Aveline likes to. I need to climb. Like a wolf, or any other threatening animal I can think of, I hope that this hunter can't climb. If my arm can manage it. I've had trouble just taking off my jacket, let alone trying to maneuver up a gangly tree. At least pain is only temporary. Death, however, is most certainly permanent.

So I keep running, knowing that if I don't act soon I'll be dead. I don't get enough time to examine the trees I go rushing by, but I can't stop. He's only just behind me. So I dart around a larger trunk, and start in on the -hopefully- sturdiest lanky tree I can find. One that wouldn't support this monsters weight. My arm was searing with pain with just mere contact with the tree. But I couldn't stop. He was already just inches from me. So I climb, containing the pain lighting my body alight deep in my bones. Letting out only the smallest guttural moans from time to time. I had surely reopened the wounds a dozen times over. It'll scar over badly. It's good to distract myself with such frivolous thoughts. I don't need to think about climbing, and I can't let myself wallow in the pain.

It takes twice as long as it should have, but I'm up at the top of the tree, or as high as I can get while still being held up by the branches. I spot the boy down below, face contorted into some indignation and annoyance. Annoyance. That's when he tried to climb it. I panicked for a second, holding tight to the trunk with my one hand, it shook with each inch he moved up. Then the sound of boulders crashing against the ground and the stream of curses made me look down. He was down but not dead. He hadn't gotten up high enough. For a brief moment I wish he had. Why hadn't I grabbed a knife when I made my way from the Cornucopia? That would have made this so much easier. I could just kill this _thing _and move on.

Instead, I watch and cling on for dear life as he tries, and fails, a second time. Then third. Finally, he takes a long sword out of seemingly nowhere, and starts using it like an axe. It shook the tree worse than ever. I need to get out of here. Jump. There are a few trees around me, each one too flimsy to hold my weight, but it would sure as hell be better than falling with this one.

Carefully, leaning off the tree as far as possible, I ready myself to jump to the nearest tree, one fairly similar to my present one. My entire body screaming. With one more hack, I jump. The shock stings all my limbs. Even more than the fact that I made it. But he was just on my tail, right after the first tree fell. This one was much smaller. So I keep on moving. Getting to a third tree, then a fourth. It was on my sixth jump when something happened. I hugged the trunk, like I did with all the others, and placed my feet on two branches. One snapped, and the other leaving me dangling, by my bad arm. I do scream then. Loud and childish and terrible. The hurting in my bones is nothing compared the fire in my arm, the one travelling down my chest. It consumes me. I miss the next jump, ending me careening to the ground. My arm felt perfectly fine compared to my legs and side now. It was like all my organs were left up there.

He was on me before my screech of pain was cut off. A hand was at my throat, and it squeezed tight. Just a single hand, and the long fingers met at the nape of my neck, clenching my throat in the fist. I'm going to die like this. Aveline, my friend, my closest and only companion, will be left all alone. I can't I won't.

With all the energy and air I have left, I fight to stay alive. Punching and kicking, doing all but biting, mostly because I couldn't reach his hands. But I did scratch them, and blood was slowly dripping down my throat. The smell made me want to gag, along with the feeling of it dripping down my throat. It stuck to my skin in rivulets of red.

It took me at least ten seconds to realize that hands were off my throat, and were instead clenching a long sword in two hands. It's too little and too late for me to run away. My mind is fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

"I'm sorry Aveline," I whisper. I get in a few more good kicks and a punch or two before he struck. It was a violent blow with a long glinting sword. In the end, everything I do is futile. I don't even feel pain. But I do feel myself slip away.

**Blaze Morrison:**

Sleep is a necessary thing. I know that now. At least now I can sleep knowing that another name is on the list. Avis Byrd, District 12.

No more voices, no more visions. Just sleep. Great, peaceful, joyous sleep.

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F: **

He's passed out right next to the corpse. He looked quite like one himself. Blood, still wet, all over his clothes. The only thing that gave away his pulse was the heavy rise and fall of his chest. The poor mutilated body still beside him. He had kept hacking long after the girl was dead. She was so small. Delicate and bloody.

Even then there were… fourteen? And I have to say, I'm doing pretty well. I just need to get my hands on that scimitar. It's time to take action. So, slipping to the ground with quiet urgency, I start looking for something to finish him off with. More than just my anger, which wasn't much more than a land mine ready to blow to kingdom come. Maybe a rock? No, too slow. I need the scimitar, it's right there, just inches from me. I don't think I breathed as I went in to retrieve it, but he did. He startled awake just being in the presence of another human or something else like that. But that didn't matter; all that mattered was that he saw me, fingers just inches from his weapon, and then saw red. Insanity drawn all over his face, he grabbed my leg and pulled me to the ground in one swoop. I'm not strong enough for this. He's standing over top of me in an instant, still lacking any human qualities. Even the way he stood was more wolf-like than human. Now he's looking for a rock, seemingly forgetting the blade already, even with the stench of metal wafting from it. That smell is disgusting. I got to my feet deciding what would be the best way to take him out. He stood between me and the sword, and the larger rocks were all too far away for me to get there in time. There's no way I can win in a brute force fight, so what can I do to take on this mountain?

I need to get past him somehow. Draw him away from the sword, loop around him and grab it. I try it out, but it fails. Trying to coax him away seems to be the equivalent of waving a red flag at a bull. He charges me, and even though I mostly avoid it, I get clipped in the jaw by a careening fist. Spinning away, I turn back when I'm ready to try again. BUt It's no use, another fist catches the other side of my jaw. A nasty kick is aimed at my ribs, and they're either cracked or severely bruised. I'll figure that out later. Punches and kicks land in sensitive places all over my body, but I need to get through it. His hands are on my shoulders, and though I do my best to get away, he practically throws me into a tree.

Why am I on the ground? And why are the trees moving? I shake the dizziness away, and my foot hits something as I try to sit up. It's the hilt of the sword. In a mad grab, I lept for it, and got the handle firmly in my hand right before I heard the animal behind me. Then it was just instinct keeping me alive. Turning around, I thrust the blade up. It took me a moment to realize the sword was hilt deep in Blaze's chest.

It took me a moment to fully comprehend it. Blood spatters from his mouth all over my face, and I just let the body drop. It's a stone. With a yank, the sword is free and mine. It's mine, and I got my revenge. It even makes the sticky blood on my face smell sweet. Then the third canon of the day sounded. Boom.

…

I got a few things off the girl, but it wasn't much. Blaze had nothing on him but the sword. How did he expect to survive with nothing but a sword? The idiot. The prideful idiot so hell-bent on murder that he got it right back at him. It brought a smile to my lips as I walked away.

* * *

**Alliances **

Rusty Steele, Mars Marker, Jean Hughes

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold

Drake Ru, Acer Chriss

**Loners**

Jasper Knopp, Sequoia Carsyn, Mica Lee, Winstead Dale


	28. Chapter 28- Day 4: pt 2

**Chapter 28- Day 4: Pt 2**

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

It took me a while to find this place, but it's nice. This high up, I can see everything in the surrounding area, and no one can see me. Green grass all around me, a gentle breeze pushing my hair into my face. I push it out of my face only for it to one back whipping into my eyes. I turn away from the wind, and see something more than my own hair. It's actually quite beautiful. Of course the sight of this manslaughter has to be gorgeous. With a huge forest of green trees covering half of the circular arena, and the rocks making up the other side. The line is directly down the centre, with only a few more hills like this one all in the trees. But something's wrong. It takes me only a moment to place it.

It's quiet. Too quiet. I take out the knife, just a precaution, and wait for the silence to end. It does, with the rustle of leaves behind me. Spinning around, my breath sharpens and gets shallow. I force myself to calm down, slow and quiet my breath. I've gotten lots of practice when it came to delivery back home, hiding from white uniforms, which includes concealing my breath.

A large thicket of thin branches and berries is shaking violently. Carefully, I approach. As I kick it, it emits a nervous squeak. It's high pitched and definitely not human. That's probably because it's a rabbit. I watched as it sprinted across by me, only to stop a couple yards from me. Thick white fur covered in dirt, it's eye wide and terrified. I have dinner. Taking out my knife, I don't hesitate to get closer to it. It doesn't know what's coming, it doesn't know that I've already killed just in the past 24 hours. Another innocent, another body sent away in a wooden box.

I'm standing over the thing before it even thinks to run away. But just I bring the knife down, it morphs. It gets bigger, the fur stretching across the much larger mass in uneven clumps. The eyes go red. It's now five feet tall, and rabid with rage. Rage directed at me. Yep, this is the time I turn tail and run. As I sprint, I turn back just in time to see it open its mouth, long jagged teeth awkwardly fill up it's mouth. It's like broken glass, and I'm surprised it doesn't cut itself. The big red eyes fix on me, and the Mutt begins to lope after. It's leaps are long and it's quickly catching up.

I'm glad now, for all the time I've spent running from Peacekeepers. It's what's keeping me alive ad on my feet now. Going down the sloping hill gives me some speed, and I hope it trips up the Mutt after me -I don't have the time to look back and check- along with being careful not to fall myself. I still have the knife, so I have something. But it's surely not enough. The monster is behind me, and I am currently cursing out every gamemaker to ever step into the Capitol. _What twisted human being comes up with this kind of thing? _And that's coming from me.

After nearly falling twice and only just catching myself, I'm beginning to lose my breath. Heart pounding in my ears. I can't run forever, I can make maybe one more mile, but anything beyond that will be nearly impossible to do. So I stop. I'm either going to die now or kill something else, either way, I'm going to do my best to finish off this _thing. _It's gotten bigger in the time I've been turned away.

"What the hell is this thing?" I whisper. Then I shout, making it clear to all the stupid Capitolites that are surely watching me square up against it, "what the hell is wrong with you? All of you!" by the time I look back down from the fake sky, the creature is practically on top of me. A scientific experiment gone horribly wrong, now trying to rip out my jugular. It's jaws are fixed on my arm, and I do my best not to scream. The teeth bite down. Even though I refused to look at the injury, I smell the blood and feel it run down my arm.

I just need it to stop. The grinding of jagged teeth through my skin. I'm just glad that it wasn't my dominant hand, that one was still at my side, the knife gripped in my fingers. It goes right through the things throat. It begins to collapse, and I have dark red blood seeping out and staining my free hand. Now, knowing that I'm going to survive the attack, I can focus on the injury. As the creature falls, it's teeth, jagged and blackened, rip out of my skin. It's even more painful hen when it went in.

Luckily, they managed to avoid popping any veins, and only some injury was caused. Which was only figured out after the bleeding stopped, and I was able to sacrifice some water. It stung going over the wound, but after washing away all the blood, I found that the teeth marks were pretty clean and surprisingly uniform. The teeth didn't go entirely through my arm, but the half circles of punctures on both sides of my arm are still pretty bad. I use my shirt, still having my undershirt underneath, wrapping it around the wounded area. I'll need actual bandages is it gets any worse, and some disinfectant, but all I can do is hope for it to come in a parachute from the sky. Putting on my jacket, now dirt covered and hot, and zip it up t my chin. Though I'm sweating right away, I don't want to show any more of my body than I need to. Not like nudity is a new thing to the games, but that's not me.

I turn back to the creature, and see my knife sticking out of its throat. More of my water cleans it off, but as I cleaned it, careful to move my injured arm slowly, I thought of something. Opening up the creatures mouth, I carefully cut out some of its fangs. I now have multiple smaller knives. They aren't even that strong. It's eye teeth are the length of my forearms. After more cleaning, this time of its blood and mine, I place them securely in the slots of my belt. Tucking them in, all I can do is hope I don't fall on my right side.

My stomach growls, as is has for a while now. But I don't need to worry about that for a little while. I got meat. Now all I need is a fire. I managed to start one of those too, about a half hour later. Of course, I had to be quick, worried about the smoke attracting competitors, I sectioned off all the meat, and buried the brain and other inedible bits under a tree. I then cooked the remaining meat all the way through, barely taking the time to stamp out the flames before I ran as far as I could while still holding the sizzling meat. It tasted delicious, unlike anything I've ever tasted before, but I was almost 100 percent sure it wouldn't poison me. It didn't, and it tasted delicious.

**Jovanni Gold, D10M: **

We had walked most of the morning, not speaking to one another. Not even when the canons were all set off. We just kept walking along. I think we've both given up on getting anything more out of this alliance than just another human being in your general vicinity. At least we aren't going fully crazy. No, the sleep deprivation is doing a fine job at that.

We're both just exhausted right now, but no one willing to speak, even to ask to stop for food. We shouldn't, anyways. We only have a little bit of food left, and that's the sort of thing we need to ration. I'm so sick of this silence, so much that I finally speak.

"So, who do you think that canon's were for?"

"I don't know," she sounds exhausted too, "could be anyone."

I try to keep talking, "okay. What about-"

"Shh," she interrupts me, but I keep trying,"What about th-"

"Shut up," she snaps, "I hear something." she cocks her head to the side, like she's listening for something. I do the same, only to hear nothing.

"What is it?" She takes a few steps in that direction, then a few more,

"Water," she finally answers, "I hear water." now she's jogging.

I rush to catch up to her, "hey, where are you going? I…" I trail off, because I start to hear it too. Smiling, I follow after until it's louder, louder than my own heartbeat. I see the small stream first. It's thin and shallow, and running into a cluster of branches so intertwined I can't see through it.

"Great catch, Dawn," she doesn't answer. She just take her bag off her shoulders. It clunks to the ground, and she hurried to grab it again, unzipping it and grabbing the canteen and iodine,

"I'm going to see what's in there," it's like she's not even talking to me, but she's certainly trying to beat me in a non-existent challenge. So I obviously have to follow her.

When I finally get through, twigs and leaves getting stuck in my hair and clothes, I see Dawn smiling. I haven't seen her do that in a long time. She's smiling at the clear pond right beside her, the duckweeds clumped all around us. The grass under my feet is green and so very alive. She seems to remember herself then, or more likely remembering my presence. The happy smile turned into a grimace, and she turned her face away from me,

"We should probably clean up," I nod, not wanting to say anything to make her even more upset. We don't need to fight, not right now. I don't want to fight ever again.

I walk away, going right back through the branches, taking some kind of watch. Another moment when it would have been nice to have the nice. I heard a splash in the water as I imagine the canteen being filled, the gurgle of water making it even more obvious. I start to hum, just trilling random notes to keep myself from focusing on the other sounds.

She takes a long time, surely finished by now. But I wait a little longer, just to be safe.

"Dawn?" I call, standing up with stiff muscles, "Are you done?"

Carefully, I go through the branches, managing to not break anything off. When I get through, I'm about to call her name, but I have to stop. Her hair is down and long, longer than I ever remember seeing it. But that's not what I'm worried about, nowhere near it. She's just pulling on her shirt, or what's left of it. Back turned to me, I see the holes ripped into her shirt, her hair dripping water.

That's not even the worst of it. No, what's worse is the long scratches and cuts all over her back. Skin torn to shreds, dried blood caked on her skin.

I was so conflicted that I didn't even realize she had turned my way again. She screamed, grabbing her jacket,"What the hell, Jovanni?" she sputtering now, steam coming out of her ears, the whole nine yards, "did you watch me her dressed? You pervert." I shake my head, trying to get out the words.

"No, no. It's not like that. I thought you were done, and I- I-" she doesn't trust me. That thought should make me sad, but I just feel anger, "Why didn't you tell me?" she didn't look away, her eyes are fire and ice, the one eye dark as midnight sky staring me down while her pale white eye was the moon, crashing and burning into me.

"Dawn, why didn't you tell me? You said you were fine. Why did you lie?" Everything she does is so great, yet so awful. Perfectly imperfect. A little more imperfect than perfect. She's an oxymoron, even her name is an oxymoron. Dawn Night. Her whole existence a cruel contradiction.

"Because I had to," she reasoned. I laugh harshly, loudly. Fake.

"Really? Why did you have to?"

"Because it's you, Jovanni," she yells, "it's you. Who was supposed to be my best friend. Who's supposed to be back home with your perfect life, helping Sue get through the games. Your supposed to be her friend too, you know. Instead, you were the one who turned your back on me, on Sue. The one who flicked a switch just like that and turned from best friend to enemy. Not only are you crazy, you but you have nothing to show for it."

She's right, I know she is, but she has to be overlooking everything I've done to try and correct it, "I know," I say, "I know was awful to you. Those years were a mistake, but can't you see all I've been doing to try and make it right? Apologizing time and time again, making this alliance, helping you at the interviews, all of it?" I want to tell her that I I've, finally tell her when she knows I'm saying it, but I can't. Not now.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

I can't believe him. I knew it was a mistake trusting him. Not only does he want to kill me, he needs to see I should have never agreed to this. He was trying to prove that he was in he right. The idea that Jovanni Gold could be anything less than a lying cheater is ridiculous to even think about it.

When is he going to do it? Kill me, or try to at least. I know that's what's coming,

"You know what Jovanni? Screw you. I just- I can't," maybe it's not coming,but I'm not sticking around to find out. Turning around, I run to the trees.

"Dawn!" he calls out from behind me, being careful not to yell too loud. I just keep going, and don't care if he followed me. I start walking, grabbing my pack and not looking back. The alliance is over, surely. That's when he grabbed at my wrist.

"Woah!" he moved back, throwing his hands in the air. It was probably because I pulled out the knife, slashing it through the air to get him away from me. I stop now, holding the knife out between us. The fear in his face turned dark and red, "You had it? The whole time? I thought I lost it,"

"Of course I took it!" I yell, cringing at how the sound carried all around us, "how could I trust you with something that you could use to end my life? I knew you'd try. That's why you followed me, isn't it? You couldn't just let me be?" the anger in his features fades, but mine is still like hot coals,

"You really thought I'd try to kill you?" his voice went quiet, it was just above a whisper. I had hurt his feelings. Good.

"I _knew_ it," I stop for a second, letting the seething rage just sit as he figures out how to answer. How to lie, right to my face. Again. _What if he isn't lying?_ The voice, the same voice that made me make an alliance in the first place, worms it's way into my head. _He's been genuine this whole time. _No! No, I can't do this.

"Dawn, I'd never hurt you. Not again. Not anymore," now he's getting sad, quiet. Resigned. But no, that's just a front. It has to be. He; just waiting to succumb to peer pressure again, to hurt me again, in a much more permanent way.

"Stop. Just stop," I step closer, still holding up the knife. He doesn't move away, even though I could kill him right now I'm that close.

Miraculously, he does. He stops doing everything. I'm pretty sure he stopped breathing. Something about this is so ridiculous I have to laugh, and maybe cry just a little bit. I feel so stupid, a little kid playing at serious topics, I don't feel right.

"What are we doing?" I ask, lowering the knife. He notices, but still doesn't move.

Finally, he responds, "I don't know," he pauses before adding, "You know I don't want to kill you?" he asks.

"I know. I don't want to kill you either."

So we've both done some less than good things, but in the end what does it matter? We're here, needing each other to survive. We didn't apologize, but now I don't think we need to. I haven't forgotten about the last few years, I never will, but that's okay. More okay than I have been in a while.

**Drake Ru, D5M: **

After a few hours, my racing heart finally stopped trying to rip it's way out of my chest. I had seen dead bodies before, on a screen and happening hundreds of miles away. But she was right there. A blond girl with dark blood all over her face, jaw slack and eyes unseeing. It's terrible. Awful, worse than that, the shrill screams of loss coming from the boy holding her carefully in his arms, like any sudden movement would shatter her into a million pieces. The body was picked up just a few hours ago. Right after the other two were picked up in the woods on the other side of the arena. I didn't see much but of the two bodies, just enough to know the larger body had dark red hair and the other had uneven black hair.

Who knew death could get so up close and personal? Just a few feet from me, someone had died today. The grim reaper taking another two lives far away from here, yet way too close. Way too close. We're still walking, but we have to stop soon. Considering that the edge of the arena, a jagged cliff, is just feet from us.

"Here," says Acer, "this place seems right for the next little while," it's a clear afternoon, the sun beating heavily down on us. Absolutely gorgeous.

"Yeah. looks good."

Unlike the rest of the day, Acer doesn't stop talking. There's no silence at all. I don't say anything, because it would be rude, but I also know that if he doesn't lower his voice someone will hear us. Finally, after the anthem, he stops all on his own. He lets me sleep first. I do so, gratefully.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

The panic had taken hold of me an eternity ago. It first started when I heard his voice, cold and calculating. Acer. I've done my best to zone out, but I still hear it, carried to me by the breeze and our close proximity. He's probably right on top of us, and has no idea. Both LIllith and I have been quiet since we heard the first voice, "it's my district partner" she whispered in my ear, I nodded and mouthed back _mine too. _She nodded grimly, thinking about what I don't know. Acer had probably threatened her in some way during training, seems like what he'd do.

My chest is tight, and as I rock back and forward. Imagining Acer finding me, killing me, blaming me, hurting me. The tears start rolling before I know good enough to stop. Lillith didn't notice. Instead, she yawned, pointing to her jacket. Miming sleep with two hands under her head, I know what she means and nods. I think she's beginning to understand how hard it is to talk without words. I watch as she settles in. closes her eyes, manages to sleep in spite of the fear. Or maybe she doesn't notice it, but I do.

There are three faces up in the sky tonight. The boy from 9, girl from 11, and the girl from 12. So who's left? Both from 2, Me, Acer, the boy from 4, Lillith, her district partner, Sequoia Carsyn from 7, Hughes from 8, girl from 9, both from 10, and the boy from 11. It's only the fourth day, and almost half of us are already dead. But I'm still here, and so is Lillith. That's all I need right now. I hear Acer comment the same thing I just figured out. His voice raised, like he knows he has an audience. I plug my ears, but it's no use.

The knife, the awful knife that I can't explain how I ended up with it, is right at my side. I can't let myself hold it, even if I would feel safer. _It's right there, _I tell myself , _it's there if you need it_. But as time passes, no one comes. As night settles I hear the noises of them settling too.

I want to sleep, I'm so tired I just need to close my eyes. I do, but sleep doesn't take me. Instead, I revisit the memories of a better time. The days I spent with Ariadne. With Acer too, before all this. He'd never admit it, but before all this we were acquaintances. At least we weren't mortal enemies. It's not even my feud, I'm just caught in the crossfire, blamed for the death of my closest friend. My only friend. I see her face, her smile. Everything that will be missed in the living realm.

Another thoughts takes over, a certain day. _The _day. The day my entire life went to shit. When Ari died, when Acer swore he'd get his vengeance. It was on the fourth day of those games. Oh my god. Today's the anniversary of her death, the anniversary of that scar. And something much more terrible.

The tears come again, and this time they don't go stop.

**Jasper Knopp, D2M:**

I see Celestyn's body in the water all over again, as for the hundredth time I try to reason how we could have lost. I had been fighting Mars, and we were pretty even for everything, but there was one way I had him beat. I was faster, hitting with just a little more strength, even with the nose he had broken, blood streaming down my face -I can mostly breathe through it now, and I did my best to straighten out the cartilage so it won't heal completely crooked- and down my chin. I was most the most likely winner, that was until I looked and saw Celestyn face down in the water, blood blooming around her. Rusty was making her way to our fight, taking her sweet time cleaning her blades, watching the show. I had only moments, so I punched him in the jaw, knock out button, and as he fails with a grunt of pain, I run in the opposite direction of both of them, grabbing a long spear along with a canteen with a small vial of iodine inside it.

I'll need to find something to eat, and soon. It's been more than a day since I've eaten anything. And though you die of dehydration long before you die of hunger, you still can die, and don't want that to be me. I'm supposed to go home, and the pack isn't supposed to break up for another few days. But I guess they did me a favour, giving me the chance to get out there with my life, and plan an ambush. Which is what I'll do, as soon I have a chance. Right now, I need to find them for starters, because if they're smart at all they would've left the location. No, Rusty and Mars are probably back at the cornucopia. Neither of them have died today, unfortunately. I had gotten my hopes up after the three deaths practically back to back this morning. But no, it's just a few outliers. How had I been so naive? No, I can't get angry at myself, that's not how I win. Just stay calm, that I have to do. Think about this rationally. But trying to figure things out rationally isn't exactly one of my strong suits.

I need some sleep, It's been a long few days, and It would be nice to have a full nights sleep. With the spear right next to me, I settle in against a tree. Watching the fallen clips before drifitng off to sleep

**Jean Hughes, D8M:**

As the sun went down I wanted to strangle Mars Marker, again. Not that I could really do much about it, I actually took out the cord a couple times, slowly unravelling it. I was quickly shut down by Rusty, just holding up a single dagger, and strangling this idiot wasn't worth it. He'd probably get himself killed if he was left to it long enough.

"Move it, 4," I spit, pushing past him to the mouth of the cornucopia, trying to find a match and something I can light on fire, just to see well enough to not trip over some loos knife. Already happened once tonight, and it could have ended really badly.

"Hey," He mutters, moving out of my way. After rummaging for a few minutes, I finally find a pack. Muttering more about the idiocy of Mars Marker and how much I'd like to murder him, I light the first match. I find a small lamp in the corner of the cornucopia, lighting up the center. Soon as it's lit I shake out the match and bring it out to the two of them.

"Well, there he is," Rusty's voice drawls from her seat against the cornucopia. I hadn't seen her, and it made me jump, nearly dropping the lamp at my feet, lighting the whole place on fire. That would have been one hell of a way to end this night off. Instead she just laughed, that cruel mocking laugh all over again. Her scars stand out in the flickering shadows.

"Come sit," what does she want? I do, carelessly placing the lamp beside me and settling beside her.

"Why are you keeping that idiot around?" I ask. She laughs, "you're both idiots. I'm just keeping both of you around," I mutter more curses, these one directed at Rusty, and she hears every one of them.

"Yep. keep doing that. It'll work, I promise." Just for that I get up and walk away, cursing out her entire family. She just has a stupid smile on her face, and it doesn't go away until she wakes me up for second watch.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

"_Lil!" I look over to see Patrick, my older brother. His arms are thrown wide, asking for an embrace. I do, and he's so much taller than me, strong arms wrapped around me. He always knows what I need. But when I look back up at his face, it's not Patrick but his twin, Pete. Okay, that's fine, they wear each other's clothes as a joke all the time. It's fine. Everything's normal. Completely normal. _

"_Pete?" But his smile is fading, sliding off his face as he lets go. _

_Then Patrick's beside him, wearing the same clothes as Pete. The rain is pouring down my face as I collapse to the ground, blood dripping over my dress, my arm, everything. Both of the twins are turned away from me and protecting me from something -someone- and Jamie's there too, holding me, not letting go. I'm so glad there all here, right in my time of need. A man, my attacker, is on the ground just feet away from me, bleeding out from a bullet in his gut. It could have so easily have been Pat who took that bullet, or Pete or Jamie. There's yelling and white uniforms and handcuffs on the man as he was dragged away, calling out my name. "Lillith! Lillith!" it's weak, yet so strong. It's the only voice I've heard for days. But Jamie is holding me now, everything's okay. We're okay. He's telling me as much. _

"_We're okay. We're all okay. You're going to be fine. You're okay," over and over, repeating for eternity in my ears. But I'm still crying, and Pete and Patrick are still shouting at the Peacekeepers, telling them to keep away from me, that "Lillith is injured, traumatized!"_

The man's voice is still floating around my head. "_You'll always be mine!" the next morning the man gets another bullet through the back of his brain. I was there, I watched as he fell to the ground, blood leaking out onto the stairs in front of the Justice Building. _

I hear the screaming before I realize it's mine. Cutting it off, I bolt upright and shove the jacket off my legs. Its dark, too dark. And I should probably be cold, but there's sweat running down my face and dripping down my neck. How late is it? Or how early?

I look around, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they did so, I make out a hunched figure in the corner. Athena. She had redone her braids earlier in the day, and now a single braid trailed down her shoulder, and it's the first part of her I make out. Next I realize she's shaking.

"Athena?" I whisper, concern in my voice. She doesn't look up, just starts shaking harder. I don't try to speak again, just hold her. I feel like an older sister, in a nice way. The protector, the comforter. I whisper little nothings in her ear, about how it's all okay, we'll be okay, she's fine. She just keeps shaking her head. So I lean in, hold her the way that Jamie held me, whispering the same comforting nothings in her ear.

It took me a while to calm her down, but it was the least I could do. It was the kind of thing I knew how to do, knowing it well enough after being the other person in this situation for years. Things mostly seemed hopeless, when I heard something.

"Do you hear that?" I ask, leaning out into the open night. I look back to Athena, tears still streaking down her face. She shakes her head. But there it is again. A melodious beeping. So I stand, and step out onto the ledge. Looking up, I see what it is, and smile,

"Someone sent us a present."

The parachute lands right above us. I can't quite reach it, but I can climb for it. I'm about to start when Athena suddenly grabs my arm, shaking her head and pointing up to the cliff side. I nod back, remembering the two voices we heard earlier,

"I'll be careful," I promise before shaking my arm free and starting the climb.

I have the silver parcel in my hand and am back at Athena's side in a moment, I hadn't even needed to peak over the side. No one was any the wiser. I don't even look at the thing, just pass it along to Athena, "open it," I tell her. It takes her a minute to grab it, then another to click it open. I peek inside. It's a few long pieces of chalk and a board,

"Someone must really like you," I whisper. Someone wants to hear what the mute girl has to say. How sweet.

We settle back into the cave, an actual smile on both our faces. She starts writing something, the chalk squeaking against the rock slab. When she finished, I took a peek.

_**I turned sixteen today**_

Her writing is scrawling, messy and neat at the same time. I look up at her, seeing the sadness in the shadows covering us.

"Happy sixteenth," I whisper, "it's a great year," last year was the best one I've had since then incident. Nothing completely horrible happened, the memories of that night came less frequent. It was a pretty good year. But she'll certainly die in this year. She'll die at the age of sixteen. Better than fifteen.

* * *

**The Fallen of Day 4**

**Eulogies**

**16:** Abilene Ackerman, D11F: 0 kills

Poisoned with C34, in the river

I didn't really like her in the beginning. I had nothing against her, but nothing for her either. But as the story continued and I knew she had to go it got harder and harder to say goodbye. It took me forever to write her death scene and it was a really emotional couple days for me. I knew this was necessary, but it's always hard to kill such an innocent and naive character.

**15: **Avis Byrd, D12F: 0 kills

Stabbed with a scimitar by Blaze Morrison

She was just really cool. I had so much fun writing her, but she just couldn't make it. At a disadvantage with her age and then her injury, there was no way she could get to the end, and I knew someone had to go at this point, and it just happened to be her. I'll miss her a lot.

**14: **Blaze Morrison, D9M: 2 kills

Stabbed with a scimitar by Sequoia Carsyn

I don't like you as a person, but love you are a character. I liked to write about you, but I can never seem to write well enough when in your head. He mostly fell flat but I did my best. I have to say I'll miss him, but only a little.

* * *

**Alliances **

Rusty Steele, Mars Marker, Jean Hughes

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold

Drake Ru, Acer Chriss

**Loners: **

Jasper Knopp, Sequoia Carsyn, Mica Lee, Winstead Dale

* * *

**Almost half the characters are already dead, and I don't know if I'm happy that I've gotten so far, or sad that I've had to kill of so many great characters. I will come with Day 5 in about a week. Bye**


	29. Chapter 29- Day 5: pt 1

**Chapter 29- Day 5: Pt 1**

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

It's too early to be awake. Even if I've been up half the night, since Jovanni woke me up for second watch. I can just see the sun over the horizon, and Jovanni has his face half smashed into the ground. He fell right asleep the moment he woke me up, he had just collapsed. Still breathing, and snoring actually. As the night turns to dawn, I hear him muttering words under his breath. I can't make out much or any of the mumbled words, but I sense the fear. His whole body is quaking in terror.

"Stop!"

It's the first clear word I've heard in the fifteen minutes since he started muttering. I poke some fun at him when he wakes up, add a little bit of humor into the morning before the left over awkwardness and anger settles back in. paranoia had been creeping back in on me in the hours since the argument, but along with it had been just a bit of the old times had slipped back in. even though he knew I had the knife now, he let me keep it on me anyways. Not like he could have taken it away from me, but it's the offer that counts. Or at least, that's what I'm telling myself. Then he says my name. It's nothing more than a whisper, but I hear it, and so do the thousands of my closest Capitolite friends. Every person watching right now. It made me made me I was about to hurl.

That's when I shake him awake, this has gone on long enough. Just a hand on his shoulder, but he wakes up. Bleary eyed, he bolts upright,

"Hey," I get my laugh anyways, even if it's more than a little uncomfortable, "calm down. You're fine, Jovanni," the fidgeting slows, and he nods. Shaking the tired unawareness from his face, Jovanni yawns. His hair is pushed back in a crazy slept-on way.

"Morning, sunshine," I mutter, a twig snapping under my foot as I stand, "let's get going."

"Where?" okay, so he still hasn't completely woken up.

Throwing the second bag into his chest, he catches with it a grunt of pain, "away from here. We've been here too long," I gesture around to the pond and the grass, the trees and everything that's surrounding us.

He grumbles a bit as he gets up and we go through the usual, filling up the canteens, wiping away any hints that we were ever here. More silence fills in the space between us as we finish up and I go through the trees first. It feels different on the other side. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I just ignore it and just walk on. I don't know where I'm going, no one does. Except maybe the gamemakers. Are we walking right into a trap? Another tribute? We have no idea of knowing. So we walk.

I never did mention the nightmare, but it doesn't feel as important now. It seemed like an invasion or privacy, and we don't need another thing to argue about. Not after yesterday. Our argument was still very much in the forefront of both of our minds.

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F:**

Now that I've gotten my revenge, I need to look at the bigger picture. I need to go for the victory, or as much of a victory winning these death games are considered. Attacking from above would probably be best, with the advantage of it of surprise and higher ground. I've always felt more comfortable up in trees anyways. I can remember long days after Father kicked me out, when I had slept out in the trees. It was a tough time in my life, but I'm grateful for it now.

So I climb up, easily scaling it even with only one hand. The other one was too busy holding the scimitar. Finding one of the sturdier branches, I settle down. It holds my weight and then some. I was glad I had found a tree with a wide canopy. No one could see me unless they were right underneath me, and by then it would be too late for my victim. So I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a little rabbit. I hear a few birds calls around me, but don't see any of them. That's when I hear a voice. The first one in hours. It comes from behind me. Perking up, I get ready to attack, jump down from the tree and take them out. I'm preparing to do just that as I hear the voice again, this time from behind me. I know it, and not from the games. I haven't heard it in years.

"Dad?" my voice cracked as I speak.

It's his voice. It doesn't sound any different than that night.

"Sequoia," his voice is cold, exactly like I remember it, "Sequoia. I can't believe you!" he's painfully the same. And then I'm 12 again, "Get out," it's still his voice. Why is he here? I look around, still holding onto the tree. I don't see him. He's still yelling at me, blaming me for Mother's death, telling me to get out, threatening me. But I can't move. I'm frozen. Here, hiding in a tree, trying not to cry.

"Where are you?" I'm shouting too, and there are a few birds that should have been scared away but are instead drawn to the noise. They flap around my head, distorting his voice. He's moved onto my yelling about my sister, who I haven't seen in just as long. I never talk about her, not to anyone. The only people who could know about her and her relationship with me would be the Capitol.

"Show yourself!" I demand. My voice is painfully hoarse and tear stricken. No, I won't cry. I refuse to cry. No way. My heart is beating in my throat, and I'm shaking, shaking so bad. I'm just a stupid kid again, one that's being kicked out for the second time. I need to calm down, it's all a game. They're messing with my head. But it's working.

_It's the birds_. The thought comes to me in a brief moment of silence. They're jabberjays. Of course they are. The black feathers, the white tipped wings. How they open their beaks in relation to the words that are bombarding me. Of course. Knowing this now allows me to think a little more clearly. Using the sword, I run one of them through. The voice gets a little quieter, but it only switches to Ava's voice. She sounds so scared, but that's not her. That was never her. She got the money when mom died, and she left us in the dust.

"Help me, Sequoia!" I shake my head, constantly telling myself this isn't real. Another bird is right by me head, and I manage to grab it with my hand. Stabbing the sword into the bark, it sticks. Using both my hands, I snap the birds neck and throw it to the ground below me. The little body makes a dull thud against the ground.

It takes me an eternity three times over to kill them all. When I finally have silence, the voices are still in my head. Bringing up the worst year of my life all over again. First with mom dying, then Ava stealing the entire inheritance from that event, mom's family being filthy rich people they were. Father kicking me out onto the streets. In the years following I had earned my scars, but they represented only half of the crimes I committed. I'm already exhausted, and can't be too long after mid-morning. At least I found a place safe from everything. Except jabberjays apparently.

The rest of my day is spent almost completely zoned out, not quite awake, but definitely not asleep. I'm completely exhausted, but at least I don't need to don't have to go and fight someone right now. Nothing, animal, human, or otherwise, so much as enters my vicinity. Fine by me.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

As the silence grows, I find myself reliving that night over and over again. The flashes come more and more frequently, but at least I've learned to silence my when I'm sent under. Only sometimes it's so real, so violent, I can't help but scream. The entire situation just brings up memories. The similarities between that room and this cave are doing awful things to my subconscious. The darkness, the small space, the threat of a beating or even death if I so much as open my mouth. The only thing between me an insanity my own thoughts. Well, Athena helps.

We pass the time with the new chalkboard, having as close to a conversation as possibly. Writing down questions for one another to answer, nothing bad or dreadful. It's all sunshine and roses, right up until I ask her about her family. I had just finished writing about the twins and my parents and wiped the board clean. The chalk dust hung in the air around us, and both of our clothes are covered in it. I hand it back to her after I finished writing out the question. She surveys the words and is quick to wipe away my words.

_It's just me and my father_

Pausing after she wrote, clearly debating on what to add after it. Quickly, she put the chalk back down and finished the sentence.

_My mother died in childbirth_

Quietly, I took her free hand in both of mine. Growing up without a mother? I don't know how anyone could manage that. Imagining myself going through it all without Mom to help me, it

made me shutter. Damn, this girl is brave. I expected something in her eyes, maybe sadness, but that's not it. I can't quite see her eyes in the dark, but I feel the rage in her fingernails that are digging into my hands. Taking her hand carefully off mine, she realizes what she was doing and let go herself. I whisper in her ear, just needing to needing to say something before I went completely mental in here,

"I'm going to catch some air," her eyes are wide with terror, looking up at the rocky ceiling, as if she could see through it. I shrug, mouthing to her that I'll be fine. Athena doesn't stop me as I stand up and head out to the cliff's edge. Looking down over the edge, I barely see the bottom. Kicking a rock over the edge, I don't hear it clunk to the bottom. A fall from here wouldn't just kill you. Your entire body would probably disintegrate on impact. I hear the conversation on top of us starts up again, which in my que to head back into the cave. Just to be safe.

Drake's voice is much quieter than Acer's, as if he knew it was stupid to keep on talking about all this without being rude enough to tall the guy off, even if it could save his life. I'm not entirely sure of how the two ended up in an alliance, but Drake better get the hell away from Acer if he wants even the smallest chance of survival. Sure, I want only one person to win, and that's me, but if I can't then I'd want someone from my District to win. That person just happened to be Drake Ru. My only interaction with Acer Chriss had been an odd one, but what he had alluded to but not outright said was intriguing. I want to know more about it all. I can't imagine Athena being anything less than genuine.

She hasn't moved, still sitting in her corner, the chalkboard lying by her side. The chalk right beside it is already half the length of what it had been yesterday. Thankfully, we still had three full ones, still in the metal unit it had come in.

I pick up the board, debating how to put it.

_Can you tell me about Acer? About what's happened between you two, if anything? _

I tapped her on the shoulder, and give over the chalk and the board. After reading it, she wipes the question off, the voices above us murmuring words I can't make out. Athena reads out the words, here eyes flashing between my face the rock above us. It was as if she could see through it to the boys. She's clearly debating on what to write. It has to be perfect, for me and for the thousands of people that will almost definitely see it. Finally, she puts the chalk down and starts to write. Every stroke of the chalk is careful and deliberate, every letter perfect before she moves onto the next. The suspense is eating me alive, but I let her take her time. This might be her incident, her scars.

Finally, she takes the chalk away, reading over what she's written. Deeming it adequate and safe, she passes the slate to me. There was so much written it just barely fit on the square.

_I became really close friends with this girl back when I was younger. She was nice, the only person who'd ever been truly nice to me. She also just happened to be best friends with Acer. I hadn't known him well back then, but he was nothing like the Acer that's here right now. It was my birthday, and I promised her I'd sneak out and spend the night with her. Acer wasn't invited. But something happened that night. She was hurt, by someone stranger who I didn't know. I was told it had been an accident, but that didn't matter to Acer. his closest friend was dead, and as far as he was concerned, she had spent the entire night with me, and therefore it was my fault. I had been kept in by my Father, and told her as much. Later that night he stormed into my house in a crazy rage. I was scared, scared he;d hurt me. I still didn't know what had happened. So attacked me, but I had the knife and just swung. It was an accident._

It was her incident. Completely different from mine and the man's crazy obsession with me, but it's hers. I wipe the board clean after reading it, the chalk dust is all over my clothes now, but it doesn't matter. Athena looks dazed, pulling on her braid with both hands. It must hurt. I take both of her hands, just holding them. I'm scared to so much as whisper, considering they're actually on top of us at the moment, but just taking her hands was enough. In big letters I scrawl _I'm sorry_ but I know so few words can never cover something as monumental, but for now, it just has to be enough.

Moving on to the matters of survival, I point the fact that we're almost out of water and food. I'm not sure about her, but my throat is like sandpaper right now. I suggested going up and raiding the makeshift camp the boys had set up, of which I had gotten a peek at earlier today, but she quickly shot the idea down. She really doesn't want Acer finding her. Understandable.

We spend the rest of the day, figuring out what we have left for food. For the water we drink as little as possible only when completely necessary. If we ration it all, we'll have maybe 3 more days in he cave, and that's pushing it.

But at least the voices don't terrify is anymore. They haven't found us yet, and if the stay above they won't. If they do, it's a matter of just kicking either one over the side. Morbid, but it's the best option we have.

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

If I don't finish the meat soon it'll go bad. The fact that I have enough food to worry about it going bad is incredible and stupidly lucky. But I'm not complaining. Just imagining what Rhyse and I could've done with this sheer amount of food back home brings him back into my thoughts.

I managed to find the place I had been chased from yesterday, and though I was expecting more of the mutt rabbits, I was glad that there were none in sight. It let me sleep peacefully, and I was now just sitting around, trying to figure out what I had to do now. My injured arm, the one pierced by the monsters jagged teeth, feels numb. Frozen, but not cold. It's the oddest sensation. It's not painful in anyway, but I feel like it probably should be. I've been feeling uneasy since then, but I can't show it. I need to show that I'm strong, strong enough to get through this and strong enough to win. But for that I need sponsors, and those sponsors need to see I can win.

So I eat, happy to sit up here alone, feeling safe with my knife and the 4 make-shift knives tucked into my belt. Waiting for death in this place doesn't seem so bad. And I'll see anyone coming from miles away. I hold the injury away from my body, careful not to move too suddenly to reopen the cuts. It should heal over in a few days. I just need to be patient. _If I'm alive in a few days__. _I will. I promised Rhyse I'd come back home, and I will.

Guilt washes over me time to time, not just in here but back in District 9 too, when I murdered those peacekeepers. The guilt got so bad at points I couldn't bare to leave the house. There's only one thought that keeps me going at times like that. It's kill or be killed, and I'd much prefer to be the former category. It's far safer for me, and for Rhyse.

**Drake Ru, D5M:**

We had decided this was a good place to stay. Right near the edge of the arena, keeping to ourselves. All things considered, I was doing better than I had expected. I had an alliance, which was far as my brilliant plan had gone before the games, so I could check that off the list I guess. I'm not sure what Acer had had in mind before these games began, but I guess it didn't matter. Then I remembered the girl, the one he wanted to find. Athena Lightes,

"So why do you want to find this girl, anyways?" I felt like we had an audience, and it's the weirdest sensation.

"Who?" he's not even looking at me. He's just string out over the edge of the arena.

"Your district partner." I'm trying to be helpful, but he's not taking it. His entire body is just filled with rage at the mere idea of this girl,

"Because she took someone I was very close to away and gave me this scar," his voice is cold, detached, asif he's already imagining hundreds of ways to kill this girl.

I sit down against a tree, it's hard ridges dig into my back, "what are you going to do to her if you find her?"

"Exactly what she did to me, and more," his fingers trail along the long raised scar. Nervous energy seems to fill me. It's chaotic and unnatural. It gives me a rush, and I don't know if I like it.

"What exactly does that mean?" I just want him to say it, just so I can be sure.

He finally looks at me, "I'm going to kill her." Yep, I don't like it. Not at all.

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

**_Just to clear up any confusion, her given first name is Amber, but I just prefer Rusty, because literally no one calls her Amber and it just doesn't fit the character. _**

I can't keep both of them alive. Surely they'll realize soon that the two of them could probably take me. Jean would get past his childish hatred just to get the job done. No, I have to act now. So, which one is more useful?

Neither.

I have to laugh. I'm combing the woods in the surrounding area at the moment, using one of the many streams as a guide to get back. I had out both of my swords, at least a dozen small knives weighing down the left side of my jacket. There's nothing here. No tribute or game. A shame, getting another kill under my belt would ease my mind right now. It's been exhausting, dealing with the Jean and Mars and their incessant arguing. It never ends. I can jut hear it from here. All I can do from here is hope it goes physical and they take each other out. Otherwise I'll have to make a choice.

Killing both of them is kind of pointless, and would be pretty boring. I can spread it out, make it more interesting. So that's exactly what I do. But which one do I take out now?

Jean has his rope and his anger, but he's also just so much younger. I don't want to worry about him killing me, but with Mars? They could take me out together. Okay. Mars. He's okay, a reaped career which might be a sore spot when I get back home, but a career is better than some random outlier with anger issues right? And besides, he is something to look at. But he's still mourning Wolfe. That might be a weak point for him.

Okay, both of them are equally awful allies, but I can keep one around for a little while. The spiteful voice of reason in my head is telling me to take out both of them out right away, but not yet. I know what I have to do, and I know which face will be in the sky tonight. It'll be quick and mostly painless.

That's when the small fur covered thing ran right over my boot. Right on time.

…

I'm back at the cornucopia in just a few minutes. The skinned squirrel of some kind buried out in the woods. It made me feel more confident in what will happen now. Jean and Mars are arguing again, and don't seem to notice as I slip past them to grab an apple. There are three bags full of them, they'll start going bad pretty soon, and it's all mine. Well, mine and my ally. It's rewarding. I haven't gotten any help, I've fooled them all seamlessly, and I will get through this. For Kaz, and more importantly to me.

I don't bother to listen to what they're arguing about this time, just watch the spectacle and eat. When I'm done, I walk out right back out of the cornucopia, taking out the smallest knife I managed to find and carve out the seeds. Small and brown, they fall into my hands. Their voices get louder as the exit the cornucopia, and I catch a few birds flying away from the trees. Jabberjays, by the looks of it, and the sound of them.

"Just shut up!" Mars spat, meaning he had just lost the argument. That's Jean: 5, Mars: 1, and that's just in the last few hours. Laughing, Jean starts walking my way. His laugh is cold, and not humorous in the slightest. It's hilarious, to me at least.

"Jean, can you help me with this?" I point to the disorganized weapon stash I had hidden by the lake, under some grass. He makes one more of his annoying comments, then gets down on the ground next to me, moving all the knives carefully to one side, leaving all the other weapons, going from swords to batons. It takes us maybe fifteen minutes to organize them. I'm only barely focusing on the task, keeping my thoughts on figuring out how best to kill him. I have the idea right as we finish. The Capitolites will love it.

We both stand up, and I wipe some dirt from my pants.

"Thanks," I lean in, whispering in his ear, "Oh. And one more thing," Pulling back, he looks utterly confused. He doesn't notice that I have both my hands on the hilts of my spotless swords. I haven't gotten enough us out of them, but it's time to change that, "You never had a chance."

In two upward swings, I slit his throat with both swords in perfect succession. He drops to the ground coughing violently. Sputtering and choking on the oxygen and the blood. His blood watering the grass as I stand over the body.

"Wh-" I hear Mars behind me, he's absolutely distraught. Wimp. bending down, I wipe my swords off on his shirt, leaving my swords clean and his shirt even more blood stained.

"Do you think he'll die of blood loss of asphyxiation first?" I look over, and see his face. He's horrified. He turns his face away, "Mars? What's wrong?" I push my voice higher, sing-song and mocking. Turning back, I realize I did it wrong. I didn't quite slice all the through the major arteries. If I had done it correctly, he would have been dead by now. Oh well, it's just a little slower. Mistakes happen.

"Why did you do that?" Mars' voice is barely more than a whisper.

"He was annoying," I put the swords back in their scabbards, the metallic sound of the sliding back music to my ears, "now, come on, we need to let them come pick up the body." I start to walk away, expecting him to follow. He doesn't. He's still frozen, head turned away from the body.

"He's not dead yet, there's no canon," just as he finishes the statement, the aforementioned canon booms. I put a hand on my hilt, raising an eyebrow, "can we go now?" He doesn't nod, just starts walking in my direction. He doesn't look at the body. I don't understand why. It should make him feel more confident in the standings. The worst he can place right now is twelfth dead. He should be thanking me, I just did both of us a favour, along with the other people still alive at the given moment.

Constantly looking up at the sky, I wait for the hovercraft to appear and take away the body. It takes five minutes for us to be deemed a good distance from the cornucopia. It appears silently, releasing it's crane and picking up the body, "come on, let's go back." he seems shell-shocked. It's even worse it was with Chrys. It's actually kind of funny. Okay, it's really funny.

* * *

**I finished this chapter really quickly, but I didn't realize that this was basically all the girls (and Drake-sorry Drake) until after I finished writing it. But here it is all the same. I hoped you enjoyed it. I'm already half finished the next chapter so you can expect that one pretty soon. **

* * *

**Alliances**

Rusty Steele, Mars Marker

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold

Drake Ru, Acer Chriss

**Loners: **

Jasper Knopp, Sequoia Carsyn, Mica Lee, Winstead Dale


	30. Chapter 30- Day 5: Pt 2

**The chapters just keep getting shorter, but this one is shorter than I had expected. I considered adding more but there wasn't much to add. The story will pick up speed again over the next few chapters. But for now, here's the end of day 5**

**Chapter 30: Day 5- pt 2**

**Mars Marker, D4M: **

The body was already picked up. Jean Hughes was dead. He had been in the alliance only a matter of hours, and he's already dead. _That could have been me. _Her reasoning was that he was annoying. Annoying? That's not a reason to just go and slit someone's throat. This might just be the squeamish part of me, the part that doesn't like spilled blood, but that death wasn't necessary.

It was Chrys all over again. Chrys, who I had only known for only a week, who had died just a few days ago. I didn't even like him all that much, but that was just cruel. Sure, not as bad as when she tortured the boy from 7, but this was still up there. She can't win. I can't let her. Sometime soon, I'll have to kill her. I'll be willing to tolerate that blood spilt if it means that there's no more possible threats to my life in my own alliance. So when the moment comes, I'll do it.

And it doesn't come. All afternoon. Is this what it's like to be Rusty? Just constantly figuring out when and how to kill people? I don't like it. It's exhausting, and not to mention a moral conundrum. Chrys's instructions float around my head for the millionth time. "_If I die, take them out." _Well, I was about half way there. Just needed to get rid of the District two tributes, and I'll be that much closer to winning. Or at least I'll have succeeded in fulfilling Chry's last quest. Seems about even in all honesty.

**Acer Chriss, D3M:**

We've been here too long. This was a good place to stay and prepare, but we've been here too long. I need to find her, and she's clearly not here. The sun is nearly beyond the horizon now, just a few hours before dark at most. We'll move tomorrow, no arguments necessary. Right now we're still talking, Drake looking more and more uncomfortable with every word. It's something a highlight in this annoyingly unproductive week. Thinking about her, then about Ariadne made the anger come back full force.

It's been a cycle in the past few days. First, it's anger at Athena. Then sadness when I think about Ariadne, but it's not the sob-inducing weak-souled sadness that I've seen Mute fake so many times. It's just a dry, bitter hole in my heart. It's followed by an unproductive laziness and hopelessness that only comes when you have full permission to murder someone and all you've managed to do is befriend a kid so helpless he doesn't even know what to think. Then the anger comes back and the process repeats.

A small bit of that sadness floats back in, and Ari slips back into my mind. This time with a fun and exciting twist, a bit of resentment for this whole situation thrown in for good measure. Sighing, I turn over,

"I'm going to sleep. I'm exhausted," it's a flat out lie, but I'm done with this, all of this. I'm done with just existing for the moment.

"Wake me if anything interesting happens."

Sometimes it gets to the point that I feel like if I have to be a human being for much more time I might just kill someone. Right now, I might kill Drake. But that's not right, he hasn't done anything wrong, it's Mute I'm after. Drake jumps, as if he didn't expect me to speak again, He just nods, looks away from me again, still fidgeting with his hands.

Turning over, I use my arms as a pillow and just stare off over the cliffs edge. We're closer than we should be, but I liked it literally being on the edge. Gives a kick. I just think. Not about anything in particular, though my thoughts do wander between murder and what might have been love with Ari, but I do think about other things too. I don't get opportunities like this very much, so I take it for all it's worth. At least until the canon goes.

Bolting upright, I give myself whiplash turning to Drake. He pauses as well, looking up to the sky as if that will help. The hovercraft won't come by for another few hours. The next canon goes not ten minutes after. then there was ten. Ten people are left. Ten. She's still out there, probably with her little ally, Sparks. The anger comes back, and I don't sense it leaving anytime soon.

**Jasper Knopp, D2M:**

The tree fell right behind me, nearly crushing me with it's considerable weight. I had just stepped over a tree that had been clearly cut down, and narrowly avoided tripping over another. The ground was shaking, the trees practically vibrating. The collapse started all at once. Each tree fell one by one and I had to be careful to avoid being caught underneath each one. Sprinting away, I narrowly avoided another falling tree, jumping over one that had caused an indent in the ground.

After a time spent running and avoiding falling trees, knowing that any moment I stopped was the moment I would be crushed, the shaking in the ground finally stopped. Out of breath, I lean against the nearest tree, looking at the chaos right behind me. The last fallen tree was just a few feet behind me.

I heard the voice, before I saw the person attached. It was out of breath, surely having just gone through something similar to me. Of course. They pushed us together, they want to make us fight like their little dogs. Well, fine. I'd do what they want. It was a girl, and she seemed to be talking to herself. She stepped into my peripheral vision, and I was quick to hide behind a tree, getting ready to throw the spear. I would have preferred some knives, but I'll have to make due.

"Come on," she muttered. Her pack was held out in front of her, her face down-turned and looking for something. As soon as she looks up I recognize her, it's the eyes. Dawn Night, one eye was pure white, the other darker than night itself. District 10.

Just as she goes past me, I release. It's mechanical, easy. I'm used to it. Another voice yells from just behind her, low and panicked, "Dawn!"

What happened next happened in a mere instance. A dark figure lept in front of the girl just as I released the shaft. It stuck right in the new persons stomach. Dawn Night pulled a knife from her waist band, throwing it. It was too quick for me to avoid the blade. Spinning end over end, it ends up hilt deep in my abdomen. A lucky shot aims it right below my rib cage, and as I look down, see it ripping through my shirt, I realize she just managed to clip my kidney. I'd be dead in five minutes, easily. I can already feel the unconscious taking hold before I even hit the ground. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it should. As dying should.

**Jovanni Gold, D10M:**

My hands are covered in blood. My blood. The spear is still in my stomach, sending waves of pain radiating through my body. I can't look down, I can't let myself see how bad it is. Because by Dawn's face, I'm betting it's pretty bad.

"Jovanni?" I never thought I'd live to see the day there was ever fear in her voice, but today seems to be a day of miracles. her face was so close to mine. Her hands gingerly moving fabric away from the injury. She's still panicking.

"Nice shot, Dawn," I point a shaking hand at the bloody knife, still in Knopp's stomach, "I didn't know you were so good with knives," she's refusing to acknowledge anything I say, just focusing on the

"we can fix this. I can fix this. I'll need some bandages, some antiseptic, some-" that's when I kiss her. Because I've wanted to for years, or to shut her up in a polite way, or maybe because this is the last chance I'll ever have to kiss anyone. Her lips are soft, and utterly frozen. Her entire body just froze as soon as I pressed my mouth to hers. I don't think she's breathing. I wouldn't have pulled back if it weren't for the canon, and the shock of pain sent through my body from my torso.

"What was that for?" She sounded out of breath. She was still kneeling beside me, one knee digging into the ground,

"Because… you would have done it for me," but would she? Would she have sacrificed her life for mine? I'll never know now, but I'd like to think the answer to that is a solid yes,

"No. Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I love you." The eyebrow-raising pure shock on her face almost makes the entire ordeal worth it. She's absolutely beautiful, even with my blood all over her shirt, "I've always loved you. Always will."

she stands, pacing away from me, refusing to look at me and choosing to instead focus on the body

"Your delirious," she says, "it's the blood loss. You don't know what you're say. Or doing. I can't you believe you just kissed me. You just kissed me," she mutters more along the lines of that, making me think the insanity in this conversation is all hers. Her breathing shallow, the rise and fall of her chest quick and violent.

"I'm not," grunting with pain, I managed to sit up, only to have her rush back to me, gently forcing me back down, "I'm seeing more clearly than I have in a long time. I just wish I had done that before I… I'm about to die," I should be delirious, and yet I'm calmer than I've ever felt in her presence. The pain is so much, sending fire into my bones and acid in my veins. But with Dawn there, it's manageable. I barely hear the canon, but Dawn jumps, quickly flashing a glance at the body only to focus her attention back on me.

"You don't mean that," she whispers, and before I can interrupt she adds, "and you're not dying today. I won't let you." I'm forced to be the voice of reason right now, and it's so hard.

"I am, Dawn. You can do so much, but you can't stop me from bleeding out." Shaking her head, she takes her hands and pressed them to the wound. I'm sent reeling with pain but she doesn't stop. She's trying to quench the bleeding. I love that she's still trying, trying to save a person she despises. She incredible. I groan again, knowing that by now it's too late for me. So I ask her to kiss me again. She kisses me on the forehead, lips just barely brushing my skin. After everything I've done, she stills gives me that.

"Thank you," I whisper, the pain is too much now, and I feel dizzy from the loss of blood, "win for me, yeah?" She finally realized it's too late for me. Her hands take mine, they're covered in blood.

"I'll try." The last thing I see before the pain overtakes me is her face, her sad smile and a single tear running down her cheek. I'll always love her.

**Winstead Dale, D11M:**

Abilene's been gone for over a day, but it hasn't fully sunk in. I finally had to leave her, but I was still sure that she still had a pulse. I'm only vaguely aware of the anthem playing, and just conscious enough to look up and see the deaths today. There's three.

I'm still numb all over, just the rawest bits of anger and regret in the smallest parts of me. This nothingness eating me up inside, filling in the empty cavity Abilene left.

The smallest part of me worries I'm going slightly insane, but those thoughts are quickly wiped away as Abilene comes back into my mind. This is so unfair. She was so young, too young to have her life ripped away. The emptiness is still there, I think it might always be, but a large part of it is being filled up with something much more useful. Anger. Along with it was something that scared me. Blood-lust. I need to stop this, to feel something. Even if it's someone else's blood on my hands. I just want to stop this ache, this pain that Abilene left in me. But there's no one around, no one to kill or to hurt as much as she hurt me. There's nothing to stop this pain, it's just me and her ghost.

Okay, I'm definitely going insane.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

I haven't been completely honest with Lillith. Sure, I had told her most of the story, but I did leave out a few key details. Like the fact that Ariadne had brought a throng of the worst kids in school to my house that night. How they had started beating me up in that back alley. How my Father, drunk as usual, wielding a knife came running in and starts swinging at them for the disturbance. He had gotten Ari in the chest. She had bled out there, so and so scared, I had fled back to the house. Gingerly dealing with my injuries, Acer has stormed in. Screaming about how I had murdered Ari, how I'd pay for this. The knife had been on the table, right next to the greens I had been cutting before Ariadne had coaxed me out of the house. Grabbing it in a panic, I had swum at him, giving him that scar. He never went to my house after that.

I mean, I had been mostly honest. I wasn't a terrible person, I'm not. Really. There was only a few bits I fibbed. Yeah, maybe if I tell myself that enough it'll be true. Like the _accidental _part and the part where Ari had been nice with no ulterior motive. Of course the promise of giving the Mute kid a beating was the only reason she was ever nice to me. I'm not a bad person. I'm really not. Then the part about who was holding the knife. Father didn't even remember it, and the kids were all too scared to ever bring it up with the peacekeepers. My father had made a reputation for himself, the sad old drunk with an aggressive streak, one that I was unfortunately stuck to it. Maybe winning these games could finally severe that tie to him. One can hope. Or dying in these games. Either way seems like an olay way to be. I'll never have to see my father or Acer again.

Sighing, I look up to the rocky ceiling. He's been silent for hours now, ever since the canons, and it hasn't helped that we've been quiet too. I usually like the silence, but this one makes me want to start banging my head against the wall and not stop until I'm unconscious. Or dead. I've found that distracting myself with pain is easier than anything else. It's ridiculously easy, just digging my nails into the scratches that haven't healed since I had to shake Acer's hand at the reaping. the blood starts to flow slowly, lazily over my fingers. Warm and sticky, I dig my nails in deeper. I'm sure this is considered some kind of self harm, but it gives me something to focus everything I'm feeling on. I'm done with crying, I hate how weak it makes me feel. This is so much better, and it doesn't give me a headache. I keep doing this for hours, until my brain finally stops with all the nonsense. the blood is dried on my hands and under my fingernails, but I don't bother to clean it away.

* * *

**Eulogies**

The fallen of Day 5

**13: **Jean Hughes, 1 kill

Throat slit by Rusty Steele

I knew this was going to happen a long time ago. I had that particular scene in the plot since the first day of training. But I was still sad to write this scene. He's no saint, but he wasn't completely terrible. yes, he was cruel and aggressive, he wasn't your average "mean" type. I really liked writing all the scenes he was in and I loved thinking through his personality and getting into his thought process, but he just wasn't meant to be the victor. In all honesty he just wasn't likable enough or experienced enough to win.

**12: **Jasper Knopp, 1 Kill

Stabbed by Dawn Night

One of the first characters submitted, I really hoped he'd make it to the final 8. But I realized pretty soon that I had kind of failed while writing him. He was supposed to be such a better character, and I had all these plans for him, but I but I couldn't go through with it. The character just fell flat. It was a really sad moment for me, but I'm happy with what his death caused. So I guess it was worth it.

**11: **Jovanni Gold, 0 Kills

Speared by Jasper Knopp

I knew this scene was coming from the beginning, but it's still super sad for me. I've never fully figured out my emotions when it comes to these two, but it shouldn't have ended like this. If anything I just felt bad for him. I don't think all of the good qualities he was supposed to have shone through my writing, but I tried. He was a good kid, just put under peer pressure that was too much for him. I feel bad for him, but he got that last kiss. Sure, with someone in love with someone else, but Jovanni doesn't need to know that. May he rest in peace.

* * *

Alliances

Rusty Steele, Mars Marker

Lillith Sparks, Athena Lightes

Dawn Night, Jovanni Gold

Drake Ru, Acer Chriss

Loners: 

Jasper Knopp, Sequoia Carsyn, Mica Lee, Winstead Dale


	31. Chapter 31- Day 6: Pt 1

**Chapter 31: Day 6- pt 1**

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

I relive the moment the life leaves Jovanni's eyes again for the millionth time. It's terrible. I never imagined that I'd watch him die. except I had. No, it was more like that I'd never imagined him dying in front of me and I wasn't the one who was finishing him off. What's worse, is that I was completely helpless. He was just bleeding out, the shaft of the spear right through his stomach, I couldn't do anything to stop it. WHe was absolutely delirious, had to be. He kissed me. He had kissed me. He had one moment left in his life, and he used it to kiss me. Tell me he loved me.

It's sad, because I believe him. I really do. Or at least, I think he believed it. How can he know what love is? We're kids, he both of us. No older than fourteen, and yet he thought he was in love with me. I can understand it, but I don't return it. At least I got some closure. I don't know, we could have been a maybe together. Maybe if we weren't tributes. We could have been a maybe when we were a little older, aged out of the reaping pool so we never had to worry about this happening. Maybe if he hadn't turned his back on me so long ago. Maybe if Sue wasn't around.

Because it was Sue that I love, or as close to love as on can manage at such a young age. I loved her so much that I volunteered in her place. I should have kissed her. It might be unrequited, but I needed to know. I had given that to Jovanni, why hadn't I taken that moment for myself?

I see her face now, and that's what got me through it. I didn't cry, and I won't. Not for Jovanni. Because as much as he was trying to make amends before he died, he couldn't make it up for it, he didn't have enough time in the world. Shaking my head, I have to move on. It's been half a day, that's too long to be held down by this grief. I need to move on. But I still feel his lips on mine. As much as an awful person he was, he was a good kisser. Even as he died.

He was really dead. The odd part was, I don't really know how I feel. I know I should feel _something_, but I don't know what it is. Well, I hopefully have a few uneventful days ahead of me to figure it out.

**Mars Marker, D4M: **

"Hey, Mars!" I look over, seeing Rusty's hand in the air, waving me over. She's standing by one of the small streams leading off from the lake. Except that as I get closer I realize it isn't. Large rocks cut it off, and it's much shallower than the others, probably because some of it has evaporated in the heat, "huh," but that's not the part she's pointing out to me. What she noticed was the dead weeds floating along the top. Pulling them out, the yellowing grass crunches in her hand, even though it should be wet and soggy.

"It's the water," she said, "it's poisoned." Looking more closely, I do see white flecks displaced in the water, and the slight tint to the water. She's right. The idea came into my mind in an instance. As I watch her fill a spar water bottle with it, "just in case," she said. She was so calm about all this. It made me feel self conscious. As she walked away, I took out my canteen. Dumping out the water, I quickly fill it up in the same way. They all look identical. She won't know the difference. So standing, I carefully seal the lid, not wanting to get any of the contaminant on my skin. If it could do that to weeds, I don't know want to know what it could do to human flesh.

Holding it with my sleeve pulled over my hand, I meet her beside the cornucopia. It's hot against my back as I slide down it's metal frame. Just as I'm there she stands up, "I'm going to go get an apple."

"Get me one!" I call out, she doesn't even acknowledge it. Now's my chance. Her canteen is standing in the grass against the cornucopia. Silently switching the two out, I place the poisoned water in the place of hers, on the same spot, the lid turned in the right direction.

Just as I take my hands away and try to relax she walks back out. Tossing an apple my way, she sits back down, seemingly on edge. I keep waiting, reminding myself to breathe. It's been nearly ten minutes and she still hasn't taken a sip. I begin to worry she won't, but then she picks it up and rolls it from hand to hand, staring out into the clearing. What will happen exactly? Will it be immediate? I should probably stand a little ways away, in case it takes a while and she wants to take me out with her.

So I stand. Walking away, I calmly stretch out my arm muscles, forcing myself not to stare at the canteen. We're completely silent, and I can just hear a faint bird call from a little ways away. Finally she twists the lid open. It's finally about to happen. She's about to die. She holds the bottle up to her lips, and just as she's about to drink she pulls it away. Her scars are standing particularly strongly today, her rust-coloured hair tied back in a plait down her back.

"You seriously thought that would work?"

Damn it.

**Rusty Steele, D2F: **

Of course he had tried to poison me. But really, did he expect me to not notice? It's smell was acrid, purely chemical. It practically sizzled like water on an open griddle in the bottle.

"I can't believe you. I would have waited at least another day," he's standing now, getting himself ready for a fight. Oh, he'll get one. Pulling out my swords, I dump the water all over the tip. I want him to hurt, I want him to bleed. He actually waits for me to finish. When I look up, I see that he hasn't moved.

"I guess I should be thanking you. You've just made my decision for me." I guess he just wasn't meant to make it to the final eight.

With the blades out and dripping with the contaminated water, I'm sure even a small cut would kill him eventually. God, he was an idiot wasn't he? So slowly, I approach, taking my sweet time as he sizes me up. He's seen what I can do, I'm sure he's scared as all hell right now. He should be. The kid from 7, Celestyn, Jean, all their deaths will be nothing compared to what I have in mind for him. I through teasing smiles in his face, carelessly moving more and more until he's just feet away from me.

"This is going to be fun."

All he has is one trident, it's three prongs sharpened and ready to cut. To stab. Except he'd never get the chance. One of the reasons I preferred using two swords to one, is that I usually had one more weapon than the other person, and I've gotten particularly good at getting the other weapon out of the equation. Which is exactly what I did. Or tried to do.

I feigned an attack hoping to draw one out of him, and he spazzed out, trying to block it. Getting my sword under the shaft of his stainless steel trident, I try to twist it and break it away from his hands. His foot slams down on mine, and the brief pain is enough for me to get back and regain my bearings. Going in again, this time with the playfulness I'd had before having completely melted away.

I swing one sword, bringing the other underneath his defence. It worked like a charm, just like it always does. I stab upwards, and it should have gone under his ribs and killed him on the spot, but he was quick enough to avoid it. Lucky bastard. Everything in my body was replaced with rage and blood lust. I need to kill him. Screw making it entertaining, screw the entire viewership. I'm going to do this my way, and quickly. I had practiced these moves dozens and dozens of times. It wasn't different in the slightest doing it with the intent to actually kill the person. It felt exactly the same as fighting with the blunted weapons of training back home, only with the rage fueling me even longer.

The fight is long and futile, sweat trickling down my forehead and into my eyes. I tried to attack again and again, but he kept deflecting them. Eventually he'd have to cave. We were getting to the point in any fight where exhaustion took over, and the best fighter prevails. Which will be me. It didn't occur to me in the slightest that I could die at any moment, not in any of the other fights before. He shouldn't be this good. He should be dead and bleeding out on the ground right now. No, my confidence can't waiver right now, when I need it the most. Just as I'm about to go in, he gets my shoulder. Just a surface wound, and it doesn't really hurt, but it shook me up pretty bad.

Finally, my moment comes, while blocking one of my dozens of attacks, he leaves a big opening. Finally, with a strike he didn't see coming, I got the sword right through his chest, in the place I had tried to get it before. The trident dropped to the ground first, just a speck of my blood on the tips when he got my shoulder near the end of the fight. His eyes were vacant, and staring off into space as the body collapses into me. He had died, exactly as I had expected. The canon came not a moment later. Just as I was surveying the minor damage he had done to my shoulder, I stepped aside. His body dropped silently, blood seeping out of the wound and just a trickle from his mouth.

Blood is still on the grass a little ways away from the discarded body, and I'm not entirely sure if it belonged to Mars or Jean. Either way, it was two less competitors. They would have been real competitors too, if they hadn't made the mistake of trusting me. At least Mars deserved it. Shaking my head, I can't show any weakness. I'm not allowed to. Looking up at the sky, assuming there was at least a dozen cameras focused on my face. I smiled. I waved. I've done everything I'm supposed to do. There are nine people left. That's just eight more people to kill. I can practically hear the cheers and money trading hands all over the Capitol. Surely some people had Mars pegged as a victor, and I had just proved each and every one of them wrong. I was going home, I was. I am.

Just as I'm about to walk away, the omnipotent voice comes over all of us. The voice of God as far as I'm concerned, especially with the message it brought.

"Attention Tributes," The announcement started. Oh, this will be good, "commencing at sunrise tomorrow, there will be a feast at the cornucopia."

Finally, I'll be able to shake off this odd feeling pressing down on my chest. Maybe even finish off any threats still left. All the other original career pack members are dead now, so who could be a threat now? Thinking back to all the times I had watched the other tributes, I couldn't really think of one. Kicking myself, I wished that I had watched some of the other tributes closer. Oh, well. I could just get rid of a few weaker tributes. Except that there might be mine left. Only nine are left, after all, and almost all of them would have to be smart enough to survive. And strong enough.

**Mica Lee, D9F: **

"... there will be a feast at the cornucopia," I suppose it was just a matter of time. It happens nearly every game. Besides, with only 9 left, the gamemakers probably want to move onto the interviews with families and loved ones as soon as possible, something that doesn't start until we get to the final eight. Who would they have to interview for me? Assuming I don't die off in the next 24 hours or so. They'd have to hunt down Rhyse, who if he was following my advice would have stayed hold up in the mansion.

I have no one else, unless you consider my business partners. Charon, Styx and all the rest. Of course, none of the upper authority should know that. They might even bring in my father, the one I ran from when I wasn't much older than 12, taking Rhyse with me and probably saving his life. I can't imagine what he'd have to say about someone he hasn't spoken to in years. He'd probably be too drunk to get out a coherent sentence, let alone a full conversation.

I know that this is just a ploy to make us fight. I know that I shouldn't go, and that it would be safer to keep away from myself. But this would be a key time to take out some competition and nag some more food, some that will last longer than a few days. I still don't know which is a better option, and I've been debating it for hours.

Finally, I decided it would be best to stay away. There is guaranteed blood shed in this situation, and I don't want to get caught in the crossfire. So, knowing where the cornucopia, I went as far as I could in the opposite direction.

It was I walked that I heard the soft beeping from above. At first, I thought it might be some kind of bomb, and I was quick to get away, before I saw the parachute and knew exactly what it was. A gift from a sponsor. Hurrying to pick it up off the ground, I open the sleek silver packaging. Inside is a small grey canister with a twist off lid with no obvious markings. On top of it is a simple note.

_For the Mutt bite. Keep fighting, you're doing great_

_From, your mentor_

Quickly opening it up, I'm very satisfied with whats inside. It's a thick white cream that smells strongly of antibiotics and chemicals. I know what to do now, you figure it out after getting clipped with enough bullets, you being the only person who can bandage you up. Stripping off the makeshift bandage I had made for myself, I take a moment to examine the wound. Swelled up, the dried blood around the wound looks pretty bad. My shirt is blood stained and stiff, so I toss it into the stream. The blood washes away with only a bit of effort on my part. Leaving it out to dry on the rocks, I turn to the wound again, carefully rubbing the soothing cream all over my forearm, adding a second coat on the infected area.

I found a second surprise underneath the canister. Clean, white bandages, about a yard long. Carefully wrapping it around my forearm, the relief was almost immediate. Leaving my shirt to air dry for a few minutes, I wait. Kneeling by the rushing stream, I bury the parachute and container deep under the rocks. The cream was stashed inside my pocket, and hit my side with every move I make. Finally done, and with my shirt

I'll just have to wait and see what comes next, and who dies in the coming days. As long as it isn't me.

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F: **

It'll take me a little while to get to the cornucopia. I was about a days walk from it, and if I wanted to get there in time for the feast, I'd have to leave now. Looking at the scimitar in my hands, I figured this would be a good chance to pick off some opponents. Slowly climbing down the tree, I start my walk. It'll be easy. Probably. Hopefully. Pick off some opponents, maybe grab some food if I'm lucky. Almost none of the food I had found I would have deemed edible, and it's too much of a risk to try anything I'm not completely sure won't kill me. I'm wishing now that I had focused more on what had been taught about detecting edible foods during training. Stupid pride, getting in the way again.

I'm quick about it getting to my destination, not stopping for anything. I'm sure I'll be walking until sunrise, the scimitar out and clenched in a white-knuckled fist all the while.

**And so there will be a feast. Anyone placing bets? Who do you think will last? Who do you think won't live to see day 8? I'll update as soon as I can**

* * *

**Alliances**

Athena Lightes, Lillith Sparks

Acer Chriss, Drake Ru

**Loners**

Rusty Steele, Seqouia Carsyn, Mica Lee, Dawn Night, Winstead Dale


	32. Chapter 32- Day 6: Pt 2

**Chapter 32: Day 6- Pt 2**

**Winstead Dale, D11M: **

Finally, I had a chance to kill. I need to do something, hurt something, kill something. Someone. Almost everyone was sure to be there, and maybe that could finally quench what I'm feeling. The numb pain has taken over again, and I feel almost as if I'm out of my body. Just watching myself. I just barely aware of the trees all around me and watch as they seem to sway in my peripheral, the sound of dead leaves crunching under my feet with every step. I'm sure the noise is driving away any tributes and animals.

I wonder how easy it would be to kill an animal. I can imagine it would be much easier than another person, especially with my knife and considerable size, at least compared to certain animals. Maybe something Perhaps a rabbit would be easiest, or something else as small and helpless. Anything bigger would be difficult. But I want a challenge. I need a challenge. Something to get this feeling out of me. I want to hurt someone, kill someone. It hasn't gone away.

It's like I'm not in my own body. Like I'm watching myself run and walk and then run some more. I wasn't thinking at first, just going. Moving, doing anything I could to get to the cornucopia by tomorrow morning. I just ran, not thinking. Until Abilene made her way into my consciousness. Again. She's gorgeous, beautiful. She's dead. Dying in my arms. Again. Blood dripping from her mouth, face red and nose blotchy. We were both crying. I just ran faster, trying to outrun the memories, keep on fighting to keep her out of my mind. But she's never gone. She's all I think about. Her younger brother had to watch her die in my arms. My younger sister had to watch her brothers best friend die in his arms. That's not something you come back from. This isn't something you come back from. So, if I'm going out, I'm going out with a bang.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

Athena refused to even think about going to the feast, and for the most part I agreed with her. But we still needed food. It's been a few days, and we've already nearly run out of all of the food we had before. We had just a half-full package of dried crackers and a canteen of water just under half-way filled. But it's nearly night now, and I'm going to bet that the two boys have already left, or are just about to. It's been silent for hours, ever since the announcement. The cliff's edge should be clear for us. I tried to convince her to go up with me, but she refused, and wouldn't let me go either. It's a good thing she was exhausted. She had gone to sleep hours ago, and hasn't moved since. Quietly, I crawl out of the cave, careful about going near the edge in all this dark. It would be all too easy to slip on some loose rocks and fall to a painful death. Thankfully, I didn't. I got up the sheer face of the cliff and was on sure land again before I knew it. I had almost forgotten what the actual arena looked like. Athena's a heavy sleeper, unless otherwise woken, she won't wake up until I get back tomorrow morning, long after I get back.

Getting my bearings, I walk carefully along, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I just got used to it and was about to start on a light jog as I'm tackled from the side. It's a boy, I got that much. As I go down, I realized what I had forgotten. The knife. Crap. Heavy breathing was in my ear as I struggled to get out from under the heavy figure. It's that night all over again. Just lacking a knife.

Rough hands grappled with my shoulders, holding me down. He was so much stronger than me. The struggle was silent for a few moments, but he finally spoke up,

"Where is she? Tell me!" and right away, I knew who he was. Even before I saw the scar. Acer Chriss.

"Never," his breath is hot against my face.

"I'll ask again," anger lights up his eyes in the worst way possible. I've only seem anger like this once before, "where is she?" he's shaking my shoulders, seething with unimaginable anger.

He keeps shouting at me, but I think I kind of shut down. I wouldn't know. I stop struggling, stop trying to answer. That is, until he pulls out an object that looks suspiciously like a knife and presses it to my throat. It's cold, and dull. Not a knife at all, I realize, but a sharpened rock point. It's still sends my mind ricocheting from past to present. Between two men, two nights, two knives. I can't go through this again, I'd rather kill myself than go through this again. So, I give in, and I point a finger at the cliff's edge, where I came from.

I'm an awful human being. I'm weak, and I'm selfish, and I'm sure as hell going to live to see tomorrow. I bring my forehead up and into his nose, he swears loudly. It gives me just enough time to knock him off of me and roll away. Getting to my feet, I'm about to run but I freeze as I hear another voice.

"What's going on?" It sounds just as scared as I feel. Following the voice, I find the outline of a small boy with a spike of dark hair, illuminated by the full moon. It's Drake. I'm suddenly so grateful to see another human being, especially one like Drake who I know won't hurt me even if he could, that I want to cry. I won't, I won't let myself, but it's there, just on the verge of pushing through my fear.

Acer up calmly, even with blood dripping down his face. Walking over to where I had pointed, he looked over the edge. I considered pushing him right over the edge, but I was too far away and I didn't want to risk it. Nodding, he looks back to the both of us, raising a shaking hand.

"If either of you are here after I'm done with her, I swear I'll kill you both," not waiting to see if he meant it, I turned and ran. Athena can take care of herself. I hope.

Drake follows me, seemingly agreeing with me in silence. Finally, I stop, but not until I'm far away from whatever is going down over there.

"So," I say finally, trying to keep calm, "Are you going to the feast?" Shaking his head, he seems to realize that I'm still a competitor, and stumbles away.

"No. No way."

"Shame," I say. I don't have the energy to be anything but monotonous and dry. He's about to say something in response when the canon booms. The fallen clips had already played, so all I could hope until tomorrow night is that is that it wasn't Athena.

"Well," I try to stay calm, "I guess I'll see you around," starting to jog away,

I don't look back.

**Acer Chriss, D3M:**

I didn't really mean it, I don't want to kill either of them, but I will if I have to. I take my time climbing down to the ledge, not wanting to slip and fall. Dropping down, I realize that there's a cave.

She looked so peaceful as she slept, just another cruel imperception. It was all I could see in the dead of night, even with the moon shining into the cave. It made a half circle of light on the cave's floor, catching half of her body in the light. The only other thing catching the light is the very real knife at her side. Just as I approached, pulling out my makeshift knife, she rolls over in her sleep. Only she's not asleep. Her eyes are wide, and focus on me. I'm sure I look like nothing more shadow against the light. Sitting up, her eyes get even wider as she realized who I was. She's absolutely terrified. Good. she should be. I'm the judge, jury and executioner, and we both know the verdict.

Both of our eyes go back down to the knife. It's right in between us. I get to it 's perfect, a long handle and tapered blade. Wicked sharp with a gleam of clean metal. The smell of metal hangs near it, and I don't know if it's from blood or the fact that it's actually metal. Discarding the rock I had been using, I toss it over the edge. It whistles through the air, and I'm distrcted and stupid enough to look over and watch as is disappears into the void. I look back just in time to see she's standing too. She doesn't have to duck like I do. Her foot is lodged in my chest just as I bring up the knife. The breath is knocked out of me, and I stumble backwards as I try to regain my balance. My stomach seems to roll over as my heels slide over some loose rocks, right over the edge.

That should be the end of me, but I just managed to get a hold on the ledge. The force of my body banging into the rocks nearly made me lose my grip again. Feet scrambling to get a hold, I finally get one. I just hear her, and her struggle o get up the scrambling to do that same thing I am, just a level up and with less of a chance of falling to her death.

I just manage to get my feet over the side as I spot her own feet disappearing over the cliff and on to safe, solid land. The knife I had dropped was just barely staying on the cliff. Grabbing it, I hurry behind her.

"Athena," I yell. She has to be terrified, I'm sure she is. Just as I get over, she disappears into the trees. Sure, she's always been fast, but today is much different. Because I am too, rage fueling me and pushing me forward. I catch up with just a few long strides. Grabbing at her hair, she's brought to a surely painful halt.

"Finally, I have you," you're finally going to pay. I could kill her, right now. Just stop her heart in a million different ways. But I have to wait, I have to make the most of this. For Ariadne.

"I think we both know how this ends," I whisper in her ear. This isn't good enough. I want to see her face, I want to see the light leave her eyes. So slamming her into a tree, I put a hand on her throat. Pressing down. I want to crush her windpipe, but as her face goes red and she cries in silent pain, I lighten my grip. But only a little. She still thinks she deserved to cry.

"I'm sure they're all curious about this. You and I, and her," that they being all the little Capitolites. Athena's eyes widen at the mention of Ariadne. Carefully taking my knife, I run the tip carefully along her cheek, right along where my own scar is. I've started at it in mirrors long enough to know exactly where along my cheek and eye it runs.

"Why don't you tell them about it, about that night." She doesn't resist in any way. I want her to, I want another reason to hate her.

"Oh, that's right. You can't. How about I fill in the blanks," as I continue, I place the knife point just beside her mouth and finally break through the skin. She doesn't scream, she's just completely silent. Shaking under my hands.

"When was it again? Three? Four years ago?" three years and one day, "and that's right. It was your birthday. And you planned on spending it with me and her. Ariadne Joanne Blacc, also my best friend. Or was. Before you killed her that night." she's shaking her head now, messing up the cut I was making along her cheekbone. Pulling the knife away, blood drips down her face and over my hands, with one still at her throat.

I see Ari dying all over again. Blood seeping out of her wounds as she dies. It makes me want to kill Mute that much more. I didn't, she mouths, but it's just more lies. It's all her fault. The last thing Ari said to me was her name. Athena, she said, get Athena. And by God I will. I promised her then and now, three long years later, I can finally say that I have. I finish the cut along her cheekbone, ending it right at her eyebrow. Blood is everywhere. It's warm and sticky, and positively gushing from the cut on her face. It's messy and blunt. The knife held out to my side. Right now, this exact moment, this is the moment I kill her. How best do I do it?

"I just have one question for you," I'll snap her neck. Bash her head in with a rock. Anything to stop the heart, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

_It's not my fault. _

The knife is held loosely in his hand, and he doesn't even seem to be paying attention to it. The screaming pain in my skin and in my lungs is almost unbearable, but I just need to push through. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I'll gladly kill him. Stop him from hurting me. I just want him to stop hurting me. Kneeing him in the groin, he doubles over in pain. Taking the knife from his hand, he doesn't seem to care. Knock-out button. Just as he comes back up, even more of that murderous rage on his face. The scariest part is his eyes. He's absolutely, undeniably insane. I take the knife and just swing, looking away. I felt it connect with his body. He died almost instantly, the canon giong just as I look back. He falls to the ground, the knife sticking out of his neck. Body completely lifeless.

I can't quite believe it. This feels like a dream. He's really dead. Dead and on the ground. He's in front of me, dead on the ground. I did it. I actually, finally did it. I killed him. Tears were still streaming down my face. Even if he's gone, his words and his horrible truth are still there, screaming at me. It's like his ghost, voice whipping at me through the winds.

He's wrong. He didn't know everything that happened that night. It wasn't me, I didn't have any blood on my hands. That was, until now. I really killed him. I can't quite believe it.

Lillith is gone. I woke up at her screams, high and completely terrified. I want to know where she went, but don't want her to come back for me. She betrayed me. I guess doesn't matter, it had to happen eventually, at least she didn't kill me before getting out of there. I know I should take the knife, but I can't quite bring myself to get any closer to the body. I actually stepped away from it, feeling myself gag. I have to get out of here, I can't look at his body any more.

Turning away, I actually do throw up. I still taste the bile in my mouth as I walk away. I need water, but I don't want to stop. I can't stop, or I'll throw up again. I can't think, can't allow myself to think. So I walk. Then I run. As far away as I can get, tears and blood still dripping down my face. Carefully touching the source of all this blood, it stings right away. It'll hurt for a while.

I can't see the body, I'm too far away. I'm sure that in just a few more yards it'll be deemed a safe distance from the body, and the body will be that will be taken away. Maybe they'll bury him beside Ariadne. It's the best I can hope for him now. I hope that in death he's more peaceful, more loving. I don't know what comes after death, maybe it's nothing, or maybe it's a place of love and wonder behind the pearly gates. In any shape or form, I hope that he's happy. If he can't find that in death, then maybe he could find peace.

**Drake Ru, D5M:**

When I heard the canon, it took only a few minutes for the realization to settle in. Eight. There are eight people left. I had thought I'd never see Lin's baby, my niece or nephew, I thought I was going to die. I've been in the belly of the beast for what felt like an eternity, and I'm still standing. I still can, there will be seven more deaths before it's all over, but it's all different now. An entirely new game.

In both alliances I've formed over the course of these games, both my partners are now dead. Or at least, I think Acer is dead, but I won't be entirely sure until tomorrow night. Sure, it was awful and I still feel just a little guilty over both of them -even if I had nothing to do with either ones death- but what's important at this moment is that I'm alive. I'm still kicking. I'm going to be an uncle. Lin's baby won't be born for another few weeks, unless something went wrong. No, things are so bleak in here, I don't want to imagine anything could possibly go wrong out there. When did optimism do anyone wrong? Okay, plenty of times, but I'm sure it's not as bad as it is in here.

I've been stumbling blindly in the dark for an unclear amount of time. All I know is that the canon went a little while ago. I don't want to picture Acer walking out of there. It was ice when he was my ally, but now? He threatened to kill me, to kill Lillith.

Lillith, who I can't seem to understand. I thought she hated me at first, based on how cold she acted on the train and completely ignored me in the entire week we were training, but then she didn't kill me, didn't even threaten me, "_I'll see you around," _I mean, what does she want? I think back on seeing her arm, the rigid white scars over her face and arm. It seems that she's been in hell a lot longer than I have.

My foot got caught under a loose root. It was wide and firmly set into the ground, so when my foot was caught underneath I was sent crashing to the dirt. From the taste of it, I do believe I got some in my mouth. Choking on it, I spit it out, quick to free my foot and stand. I hate getting dirty, I guess I've just had to get used to it over the past week. Doing my best to wipe away any of the new dirt, I try to orient myself and start walking again. I need to get as far as I can from the cornucopia before sunrise. I don't want to get caught up in any fighting, because it wouldn't even be a fight. It would be a beating, and I would be the one who was beat. That's why Freddie and I worked. That's why we originally started hanging out, all those years ago. I need to see him again, to see everyone. I might be a long way from winning, but I have something I haven't had since my name was called. Hope.

* * *

**Eulogies: **

The fallen of day 6

**10: **Mars Marker, D4M, 0 kills

Killed by Rusty Steele

Okay, he was kind of an idiot, in the nicest sense of the word. He was nice and all, but his entire personality was pretty contradictory, as well as the fact that he kind of just has a girlfriend back home and completely forgot about her? I know I wrote this character, but I kind of just wanted to punch him in the face just for his sheer stupidity. Even the reason he died was sheer stupidity.

**9: **Acer Chriss, D3M, 0 kills

Stabbed in the neck by Athena Lightes

I absolutely despised him, even though he's mine, and I don't really have much more to say. I'm really happy with this chapter, and the way he died, but I just wish it had happened sooner. He was mean and cruel and jumped to judgement, assuming the worst of Athena. It ended up being his downfall.

* * *

**So, we have moved onto the final 8. We're so close to the end, just a few more deaths to go. Now that we're here, I want to add an interview from someone close to any of the living tributes at the beginning or end of each chapter (which will now be a full day since there is less people). So, any recommendations? I have one lines up for next chapter, but I need some more. So if you write a review, tell me who the interview is about and which friend or relative the POV is from. I'll update again ASAP. **

**Edit: Also, would you prefer I write an entire chapter of interviews, and post that next? I have a bunch of them lined up but I'm not sure if it would be better to have them all in one chapter, or spread it out to two a chapter. Please let me know in the reviews is you have a preference**

* * *

**The Final 8: **

Rusty Steele, Athena Lightes, Drake Ru, Lillith Sparks, Seqouia Carsyn, Mica Lee, Dawn Night, Winstead Dale


	33. Chapter 33- Day 7

**Hi! We're in the final 8! It's been milestone after ****milestone, but now we're so close to the end. I plan on writing an POV from a family of friend a living tribute at he beginning and end of each chapter. I'd still love to hear some more ideas from any of you. Some questions you'd like answered by each tributes closest family and friends, or a POV suggestion. I have a pretty solid plan going forward, but we'll see how it goes. I still need to figure out a victor, which I see as having too many good characters so I can't narrow it down. At least I have it narrowed down to 3, so progress? For**** now, welcome to Day 7 of the 126th annual hunger games!**

**Chapter 33- Day 7**

**Jessi Steele, District 2:**

On the way here I had watched all the footage they had of Rusty in the games. It hasn't been long, but I had expected her to be home already. But I can understand, she's taking her time. Proving that she can do what Kaz couldn't. She was proving that she could go home, that she was the best. Something I already knew. Madigan and Eleri were busying themselves with being the most annoying human beings on the planet, making me glad that I wouldn't have to see them for the next few minutes. I have no clue why, but my interview is first. I should be racked with nerves right now, But I'm not.

The woman sitting on stage, discreetly touching up ridiculous her awful bright yellow wig and absolutely grotesque makeup, was too cheery. It was actually kind of disturbing. She spoke to the audience like each and every one of the was her closest friend. That was before some bored looking man with dark skin and an even darker scowl told me I was about to go on. Mother took a firm grip on my shoulder,

"Be careful about what you say," she whispers in my ear.

"I know."

"We have her one of her two younger brothers here with us today. Please give a big round of applause to Jessi Steele!" the applause is loud and banging around my head. Shaking it away, I walk forward with the air of Rusty all around me. She had been so great in her interview, I had watched it a dozen times already.

"Hello, Rexa Corsan. It's nice to finally meet you," her entire face is just fake. Even the smile looks painted on.

"Well hello there, Jessi. How are you doing?"

I'm all smiles and fake cheer, "I'm doing great."

"Wonderful. That's just wonderful. Now, I have a few questions for you,"

"Isn't that the reason I'm here?" It's not funny, it's not even worth a fake laugh. Yet the audience screams and breaks out into applause. Seriously? It's a feat of pure strength to not roll my eyes.

"I suppose, I suppose," now she leans in, careful to make everything she say just that much more serious, "How do you feel about Amber's standings?"

"Rusty," I say, not answering the question.

"I'm sorry?" her voice is high and her face is tight,

"Her name is Rusty," I repeat.

"Oh, my apologies. How do you feel about Rusty's standings in the games as of this, exact moment?"

I'm completely serious, "She's the best. I know she'll win, it's more a matter of when than if."

"You're a very confident boy."

"I have a very competent sister," dry and unfunny, I think I'm making her uncomfortable. I like it. It makes me feel like Rusty.

"I'm assuming you're very close to her?" cokcing my head to the right, I settle back in my chair. Lazy and uncaring, my words are the exact opposite, "We're very close. Always have been. Always will be," I feel like we're closer than close. We need a whole new word to describe our relationship. We were close before, but ever since Kaz died she had all but gotten closer to me and vice versa. We tell each other everything, even if everything isn't all that interesting. There's only one thing I haven't said. I've been practicing with twin blades in secret for about a year now. I plan on surprising her when she gets back. I've seen the love and fervour she has for her weapons, and I want that. So far it's slow and steady progress, but I still have

"Aw, aren't you sweet?" It's not really a question, but I answer anyways,

"No." To say she doesn't me like would be an understatement.

"My, my. But I've heard that Am- Rusty isn't the first of your siblings to volunteer for the games. Can you tell me about that?" trying to keep calm, I keep all emotions off my face.

"Yes. My older brother Kaz went in a few years ago."

"But he obviously didn't come out," she wants me to answer, even though it isn't really a question. A forced pout is on her face, and it's utterly infuriating,

"Obviously," I spit out.

Can this just be over with? I want to talk about Rusty, not some brother who's been dead for years.

"Can we not talk about this? Change the subject?" I think we're both done with this, and I'm not entirely sure who's better at hiding it.

"I suppose. Back to Rusty," she says her name with extra conviction, "How did she get that nickname, anyways?"

"It's from Kaz," of course, we're still on this topic. I don't want to talk about this. It's still a sore spot for the entire family, no matter how many years have passed since he died. What's worse is that he was so close. So close to winning, to coming home.

"Oh," she's clearly uncomfortable, and it's kind of funny, "back to your sister, I-" just as she begins to ask another question, a buzzer goes. Corsan seems to know what it means.

"Well, thank you very much for your time, Jessi, but that means our time is over. We have a feast to watch." Of course. Nodding, I try to smile, but it's obviously fake and I can't care to try any harder.

"Goodbye, Rexa. I'll see you later," I don't even try to make the phrase sound as it does, but it sounds menacing, even to my own ears. Now I just want to watch. To see what happens. See who dies.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

After a few hours of stumbling blindly through the woods, I finally got to the cornucopia. I can't hear anything but the rustle of leaves in the wind. The sky is starting to lighten, and I have to catch my breath. It's freezing out here, and stupid me forgot my jacket inside the cave, and I'm not risking anything to head back there and grab it. In the mouth of the cornucopia some of the left over clothes and other items. It's a feast all on it's own. But the feast still hasn't started.

The sun is nearly up now, nearly hanging over my head. I'm wishing for the thousandth time I had grabbed the knife. And my jacket. It's still cold. If anything the temperature has dropped since I sat down here. Legs burning, I get yo to a squat and move around a bit. Get some feeling back in my body. The feast should start any minute.

Any minute, turned into ten. Then twenty. The sun was up now, and yet there was no table. No nothing. It's dead quiet, and it's almost like I'm the only one here. Definitely false. There's at least two more people, I just can't see them.

It's just as I'm cursing the games, and myself, and the entire Capitol out, that the feast begins. The grass sliding down, melting into the ground. It left a gaping hole, right where the table comes through. Bolted to the cement, it's steel and simple. Long and narrow, it spreads across the mouth of the cornucopia and just beyond each edge. On it is all sorts of foods. There was even a few delicacies straight from the Capitol, but most of it was just simple stuff. Bread, venison, and more. All of it was in clear, sealed parcels. A litre of water was right on the edge.

Do I run? I've never been the fastest, but I'm light. Quick. I don't know, I can't decide. I'm doing everything wrong. The whole point of being here is to get something. I just need a weapon. Literally anything.

The first movement to the cornucopia isn't mine. It's a girl, almost as small as me and much faster. She at the table before I even stand. I'm cursing myself as I bolt, legs stiff underneath me and my breath goes visible and white in the air. The pickings are plentiful. I'm too focused on my goal to even notice the knife sails at my face before I look up to see inches from me, sailing end over end. With a scream, I drop to the grass. It just kissed me, and I think a few hair were cut right from my scalp, but the important part is it did miss. No clue where it was coming from, I grabbed the first things I could get my hands on, the first girl was already sprinting away and not looking back at me. I'm so very thankful for that. The scream was sudden and loud, and I looked up only to see nothing. It's on the other side of the cornucopia,and I don't want to see who it is.

With the water jug in one hand, my arms filled any food I could grab, I sprinted away. Not looking back, I keep running. I don't know where I'm going, I'm haven't been much in the woods these games, but I just run.

After I heard a canon, I ran for a few more minutes before stopping to examine what I grabbed. The plastic jug of water, a large package of dried meat, two shrink-wrapped loaves of bread with steam sticking to the packaging, and a brown burlap sack. When I opened it up, I found a few apples along with some other fruits I didn't recognize. With this, I'll be set for a while.

Tearing through the packaging of one of the loaves, I rip it in half. Still warm, and absolutely delicious. I have everything I need. Well, almost. I just need a knife. I always have a knife of some kind on me, ever since I was fourteen and that night went down. Even during training, I still had one tucked in my waistband the entire time. I had left it deep in the bottom drawer of the dresser in my old room. I wonder if anyone's found it by now. It's been a week. Settling down, I get the idea from Acer Chriss for the makeshift knife. I have to thank him, even if he threatened to kill me. It took me only a few minutes of searching I had in front of me two rocks. Using one to sharpen the other, I spent the rest of the day shaving away rock to make a fine point. I make very slow of the knife, and by the end of the day I had made almost no progress. The edge is blunt, a horrible weapon, but a weapon none the less.

**Sequoia Carsyn, D7F:**

It was almost perfect. It should have been easy. Sure, it wasn't the smartest thing coming to the feast, but I had my scimitar and my wits. My original plan was wait for someone to go for it then come up behind them and finish the unsuspecting feast-goer off. So I waited. And waited. I'm sure it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity had just tripled itself in the time it took for me to change my plan. I'm fast, always have been, but I'll have to be even faster. Any enemies around will be waiting for something to happen, but if I get it there before the initial fighting begins I'll be fine. Standing up but staying low, remaining the sanctuary of the bushes, I get ready to run. Still nothing. It's now or never.

Dashing out with my sword tip nearly mowing away large chunks of grass with every pump of my arms. I don't see what I grabbed, just scooped some things off the table and kept going, making a wide arc around the cornucopia and going around to the other side. At least, that was the plan. In my way was a large boy, heavy set and hulking nearly a foot over me. Dark red hair and brown eyes, pale skin tinted slightly pinkish with a sunburn. In his hand was a knife, a silver sheen of newness and misuse lingering in the wicked sharp blade. The only thing sharper was the anger and brute strength just radiating off of him.

He doesn't say anything, just lets out something that sounds more animal than human, and runs at me. There's only one way to go, and that's to my right. There's nothing but grass and then the treeline, and I could easily lose anyone following me. Taking the sharp right, I drop the food as I bolted. it hits the ground with a few dull thuds, all in quick succession.

That should have been the end of it, I would have run away and gotten away with my life if not with the food I came here for. I should have disappeared into the woods, leaving my would-be attacker in the dust. I was so caught up in the movement, I didn't realize I was pulled back until my back was slammed against the metal side of the cornucopia, my neck groaning with the pain of my head slamming back to meet the metal. It's cold against my neck, met with a warm trickle from the side of my he Blood. I'm bleeding. He made me bleed. It's his turn.

Except the sword was out of my hand. Eyes darting around, I finally see it. Dropping to the grass, scrambling away. I see the heavy hilt pointed away from me, the sword discarded on the ground where I dropped it. It was just a few inches away when I was dragged back by my ankle. Two large hands like iron clamped down on my ankle, and no matter how hard I kick and yell, it doesn't matter. He's bigger than me, and so much stronger. I still feel light headed and I think I got whiplash from the cornucopias impact on my side.

I just barely got a look at him before he brought the knife down. I closed my eyes before it landed, I don't want to see it. I don't want to see anything. No matter how hard I fought back, my punches fall weak, it was no use. I think I'm crying now, I can't tell. Purely a pain response, to the knife currently hilt deep in my stomach. I didn't realize the screaming was mine until it stopped as I took a harsh breath. It's even worse when he takes it out, the blood flowing freely from the wound. It hurts so much, I just want it to stop. All of this. I'm losing blood rapidly, and I feel lightheaded and dizzy and a million other things all at once. I finally pass out, forcing my eyes close.

I just want to let go. Then I finally did.

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

No one saw me. No one even knew I was there. I've been throwing small knives at everyone coming my way, each one landing in the grass all over the clearing. each one barely the length of my finger, but it shouldn't have mattered. And yet it does. My aim was off, I keep missing. I heard the screaming just as I was about to get a girl sprinting away. It was right underneath me. By the time I looked to see what it was and looked back, the girl had disappeared into the trees. Silently, I cursed, before I cooled my anger and peeked over the side again. The sight that met me was intriguing.

Sliding down the side of the cornucopia, I land just inches away from the boy and his victim. She was small, pretty. And soon to be dead. I wait for it to be over. He takes his time, and I have to admire it. He's incredible at inflicting pain, hacking away at the girls already scarred skin. In a sudden moment, he seems fine. Bored. Plunging a long knife into the girl's chest, again and again. He didn't stop until long after the girl was dead. The canon said as much.

I don't disrupt him, still trying to figure out who the him was. For that, I have to remember who's not dead. It's as I'm figuring it out that he looks up. Stepping away from the body, he still doesn't see me,

"Nice job," he jumps like a cat, turning around a holding his knife out in front of him and he spun around, "but you took a little while. You could have just snapped her neck. Much less mess," I only have one knife out, but I watch as his eyes go to the swords in my hips and the knives weighing down one side of my jacket. Recognition kicks in. The dark red hair, the brow eyes and clear, pale skin.

"I know you. You're District 11. But what's your name? I swear I know it. Give me a second. Ash di Angelo? No. That's 12, and he's been dead for a few days. Jovanni Gold? No, he's also dead," I know exactly who he is, I made a point of memorizing every face and every detail I could find about each of them. This is Winstead Dale, 17 years old and definitely shouldn't be killing anyone. From everything I saw of him, it looked like he'd start uncontrollably sobbing at the sight of blood. Cleary, I was mistaken. Maybe it just drives him insane.

"Winstead Dale. What's it to you?" he makes a sweeping gesture with his knife, and I'm sure it's supposed to look threatening. He's just a kid with a toy. A very dangerous toy, just not a danger to me.

"Where's the little girly? You two seemed all buddy-buddy in the Capitol," the look on his face made me want more, "Oh! Or is she here, waiting for the chance to jump me. I'm seriously so scared right now. I don't know how I'll take both of you," I'm laughing but he's dead in the face. The only thing that marks it is anger. And a bit of blood below his left eye, but other than that he looks pretty dead.

"She's dead," of course. That was day 4, I believe. Her pretty boldness face in the sky. the pain in his voice is dripping in pain,

"You didn't kill her, did you?"

"No-"

"Because if you did, props to you. I mean really, all that annoying flirting just to get in her head, then killing her the moment you get in here. Brilliant," I give him a little applause, slow and harsh,

"And why shouldn't I kill you?" He's a few inches from me now, the few inches he has on me doubled by the fact that I'm leaning against the cornucopia.

"Because I'd slit your throat before you realized I took out a second knife," I lightly tap his torso with the long bladed knife on my other hand, I had pulled from my jacket. He moved back, eyes flashing down to the blade. With an exaggerated sigh, I put it away again, "alright. I'll play nice. For now." He wants to kill me, I can see it in the tight grip of his knife. In his clenched jaws and the fidgeting of his free hand.

His questions comes all of a sudden, "You're Amber Steele, right? District two?"

"Rusty," I watched the confusion flicker across his face, only to be replaced by the insane anger again.

"What?" I sighed, pulling my braid over my shoulder,

"Call me Rusty."

"Why?" Poor kid. So confused.

"The hair," I gesture to the braid snaking over my shoulder. He nods, like he's filing it away somewhere, right before his eyes come back to me. I'm still debating whether or not I should just kill him now. It's the hurt in his face, the pain, that makes me lower the knife. I can do something with this, with him. Manipulate this boy and this situation, and come out on top.

I need to convince him to ally with me. He doesn't know what's happened to literally all of my allies, he won't know I killed most of them. He'll help me take out some competition, before I take him out in the finale. I can see it now, blowing up on every screen in Panem. This game was a puzzle, and the final pieces were slipping into place. Carefully thinking of what I can say to convince him, I just stare into his eyes. Intimidation works like a charm in situations like these. He might be taller, but I'm stronger. Smarter. More lethal. Finally happy with my sales pitch, I start.

"Well, you and I are the obvious final two. It's inevitable. We're both killers, we're the strongest, the smartest. The best of the best. Why don't we cut out a few days of wandering solitude, aimlessly in the woods for any odd kill, and take out the competition together?" The moment it's down to two, he's dead. I shrug, leaning against the cornucopia. He doesn't answer, not for a long while. There's still blood all over his shirt, and face. There are even a few spots on his pants. There's some in his boots too, but it's dried. Old.

"So? What do you say?"

**Winstead Dale, D11M:**

Amber -or Rusty?- was so casual, leaning against the cornucopia. Her arm was just inches from the spot of blood, and I wish it was hers. One side of her jacket hanger lower than the other, and I know now that it's weighed down with a collection of small knives. She was more sharp metal than flesh. She was still waiting for my response, one eyebrow raised.

There's blood on my shoes, but it's not this girl's. It doesn't belong to the dead body on the ground either. It's old and dry. Abilene. It's Abilene's blood. Looking up and away from the stain, I focus on her face and what she's offering. I get the feeling that she'll kill me, whether I take the alliance or not. At least if I take it, I'll have a little while to get my wits about me. Maybe snap out of this… whatever this is. At least I'll get a little more use out of my knife. Red blood is still dripping off the blade, and a few drops land in the grass, away from the rest of it.

I just want to see blood spilt. Even if she does kill me, it's still blood in the water, right now I need that. The bloodlust has all but gotten more intense in the last few minutes. I want more, need more. Even if it's mine. So that's why I agreed.

"Sure. Why not?" her smile is wicked, and I see the devil behind her eyes.

"Excellent," she puts the knife she still has out into some hidden pocket, "that means I won't have to kill you." I want to see her bleeding out on the ground, pulse weak and crying tears of blood.

"We should get out of here. Let them collect the body. Or what's left of it," her voice sounds all sugary and fake, and I can't tell if that's just her voice if it is actually fake. Either way, I don't care all that much. She doesn't wait for me to give any kind of response, just turns and walks. The amount of confidence in everything she does, the sure purpose in every move, it makes me want to follow her to the ends of the earth. Or the cornucopia. Whichever comes first. So I walk away, leaving the table of fresh food just out, but not before snatching a small roll straight from the Capitol and eating as I walked. It was delicious, completely unlike the heavy and dark stuff we get back home. It brings my blood back to boiling. The people up in the Capitol get everything, are everything. Take everything from us and sell it back for bloodsport.

I catch up just as she disappears into the tree line. It's mid morning now, and the chill had migrated to only a slight discomfort as I jog to catch up. There's blood all over my shirt, my pants, my shoes, my knife. I'm covered in someone else's blood, and the worst part is that I like it. The metal smell is refreshing and the stiffness of my shirt feels good against my skin. We're both silent, but she talks sometimes. I don't really hear what she says, just more of the same. A bit of sarcasm thrown into the mix.

"Do you know who that was?" I asked, stepping up beside her, going around a small tree and flashing a glance at her. There's a long scar on one side, but it doesn't seem to bother her. She doesn't seem to realize it's there,

"Who do I think who was, Eleven?"

"That girl back there. The dead one,"

"I don't know. We'll find out tonight," Amber's voice dropped, and the words were clipped.

I don't know where we're going. I don't care either. I'd like to pretend I was running with Abilene. Maybe I just want to run, but we don't. Instead, I keep a steady beside Rusty. Just the way she walked seemed calculating, meanwhile I was trying to avoid falling over every odd tree root.

"I mean it, you know. The two of us are the final two. I guarantee it."

Keep saying that. Maybe I'll believe it.

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

My arm is almost completely healed, just a day later and everything. There are just a few fine lines puckering my arm. It's just slightly pink and puffy. If I know injuries, it'll be gone in a few days at most. The moon is just as bright as last night, and jut as full too. Come to think of it, the moon has been a full, perfect circle for this entire week. Just as I settled into the trees roots, the anthem comes on. I can just see the sky through the trees branches, and I don't feel like moving.

The first face is blank and cold. Dark hair and grey eyes, a white scar lining one side of his face. There's a branch in the way of his mouth, but the district number is fully visible. District 3. There was only one death at the feast. The first canon was in the middle of the night, probably closer to dawn than dusk, but still. I hadn't been able to sleep after that. The next face was the girl from 7, dark skin and even darker hair with green eyes and a scar running right through one of them.

And then there were seven. A week in, and there are seven left. And I want at least seven hours of sleep before I wake up again and try to deal with any of this. Before I make any actual plans. Anything I could think up at this hour would be absolute crap. So I close my eyes.

It takes me a long time to settle down, and relax enough to get to sleep. When I finally do, it's great. Wonderful.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

Acer's dead. I don't want to dwell on seeing his blood on my hands, but there is nothing else to dwell on. I have no food, no water. The temperature is dropping drastically, has been since this morning. I still see his eyes, open and unseeing. It scares me how much I liked it. Sure, I had felt absolutely sick right after it, but now I see it was all for the better. He just would have kept coming at me, kept hurting me, kept blaming me for things out of my hands. But what if it was my fault? Imagining that image, killing Ariadne, it put an odd pressure on my chest. If it were my hand holding that knife, driving it into her chest, would I feel any different? Ari's still dead. She's still paid for what she did to me. Does it matter how it happened?

If anything, I wish that I had done it. I wish that I had stopped my father before I stepped onto that train. Finished off every other Acer in the district. Every idiot who hurt others to feel empowered. It would be just as easy, just a knife in the neck. Just another set of blank eyes and a pool of blood. I still feel this bile in the back of my throat, and I need water. Now. my throat is dry and my lips are cracked and painfully raw.

All I want is to stop them, all of them. Every Acer and Ariadne, every man like my father. The people hurt others for being different and more misunderstandings. I hate them all in the most center of my being. In my gut, I know it's people like them who deserve to go into these game, who should get exactly what they've dished out over the years. I can imagine my father with eyes. Lifeless and blank.

These thoughts terrify me, just as much as the exhilarate me. I never knew that this was inside me, but it's given me what I needed to get this far in these death games, so I have to be grateful. I just want this to be over with.

I pass the time with these imagined scenarios, thinking of all their faces, their crimes. The hatred behind their eyes. Only one face didn't fit. A girl. She was small, uneven black hair, olive skin, grey eyes. She wasn't from 3. It took me a while to place the girl, but I soon figured it out. She was from 12, the one who died a few days ago. Avis Byrd. But I couldn't figure out why she was there. I haven't been anywhere near her the entire games, barely reviewed her reaping tape, so why was she there?

I see the rest of a scene slowly building around her. It's that first day in the arena. How could it have only been a week ago? So much has happened since then. Seventeen deaths have happened since then. I've gone through hell and back, Acer down my worst enemy and lived to tell the tale. Well, not tell. As much as these games have been a thing of miracles, I couldn't fix that.

All the same, the day built itself up around me, piece by piece. The cornucopia, the hell around it. The fighting. The bodies. A small girl running at me, a knife in one hand. It's the girl from 12. I don't remember this. This surely didn't happen. But I couldn't get out of it. I seem to watch as she tries to go around me, as she drops the knife. I grab at it, with outstretched fingers and snatch it up. No matter how much I resist, I'm a bystander to this scene. The girl tried to get out of my hand, but I swing. It's a weak blow, but the knife is sharp enough to make up for it.

Blood drips to the ground, and the girl looks stunned as she looks at her side. The entire side of her body is slashed. I did that. Me. The blood is still in the knife, trailing behind me as I bolt.

It's when my knees hit the ground with shocking pain that I'm out of it. No. That coupon have happened. I would have remembered that. I would have…

It would explain why I had the knife to begin with. Explain all of it. It's like there are holes in my brain. I've always been forgetful, but it's always been little things. Not attempted murder. It's okay, I try to convince myself, it was a mistake. Besides, you didn't actually kill her. Yes. She died days after the initial bloodbath. She did.

So why do I feel like I'm going to throw up again?

I don't, probably because I have nothing in my stomach to come back up, but that doesn't stop me from dry-heaving for what feels like hours, my throat constricting and burning in my chest. Finally done with it, I lean back on my heels. Acer's dead. Ari's dead. That's all that matters. They won't hurt me ever again. Except in memory. So why do I still feel them all around me? There, in the edge of my world. I can't see them, but they're there. I hate it. I hate it so much.

**Drake Ru, D5M:**

I found the edge of the arena again, the jagged cliff's edge. I figure it's easier to there. Safer there. Until it wasn't.

The earthquake started all of a sudden. The ground shaking underneath me, and I almost dropped to the ground. I'm glad I didn't. The collapse started just moments. My eyeballs practically vibrating in my sockets, I looked over just in time to see the edge way closer than I remember. Then more of the rocks broke off. Not thinking, I just turn and sprint. I've never been a fast runner, but right now fear and paranoia is pushing me. I turn back just in time to see the edge of the arena practically chasing after me. The rocks falling away and descending to the ground. And the noise. It's so loud I'm surprised my ear drums aren't bleeding. It's the entire edge too, the circle getting all the smaller.

It stopped just as suddenly as it started. The silence came just a few moments later, when all the rocks settled at the bottom of the ravine. I'm too scared to look over the edge, but I can imagine I'll see that the bottom is no closer than before. It's probably all sent away to some lab somewhere, to be preserved until they start with the reenactments.

The arena is shrinking. The gamemakers seriously just made the arena smaller, just on a whim. I've never seen this before, and part of me hopes that this is the end of it. But the smarter part know this will probably happen again, and I don't want to get caught up in it again. My heart is still beating up in my throat, and I can't keep running. My legs will give up long before the collapse catches up to me. My heart is still beating in my throat as I dropped to my knees. It hurt. When I turn around the first thing I see is the sky. It's a light pink colour, the sun going down behind me. I should get away from here, I'm still worried the collapse will continue.

I don't think I'll sleep well tonight. Or at all.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

I still can't believe Jovanni did it. He really got himself killed for me. Over me. To save me. I know I should move on, he's just another boy, just another body. I should. I would do anything to get him out of my mind. But he's still there. What he did is still there. I can't believe it. What's worse, is that I can't believe he just settled for dying. It's so unfair. He didn't deserve to freaking die. He should have gone home. We all should. No one deserves this fate. Not even Jovanni. Not the worst psycho you could find. Because this is cold-blooded manslaughter. And it makes me angry, so angry. Not just for Jovanni, but for every innocent child sent to the slaughter. I feel angry for me.

This game is nothing more than murder. Murder and cruel tricks. They try to fool you into thinking they want to see you live, but it's nothing more than a trick. No. They want to see us die. They want to see us get murdered in the most brutal way possible. Like Jovanni. Well, I'm not going to be like him. I refuse to be like him. Just another pawn. I won't allow him to die in vain. As conflicted a person as he was, he was still so young. Who knows what could've happened if he wasn't dead right now. His future would have been bright. Beautiful. If he can't have that future. I will. His sacrifice won't go to waste.

The fact that he's dead is just another reason to fight that much harder. He gave up so that I wouldn't. If I die now, then his death was meaningless. I can find meaning in it, and I'm willing to read between the lines.

He got his last kiss, and so should I. I will win. I will go home. I'm going to tell Sue that I love her. Because I'd rather die a million times over at home, back in District 10. I'd rather die with Sue at my side, even if she doesn't feel the same way. I'd rather never existed at all than let myself be another pawn in this game. I'm going home. I fucking am, and no one will stop me. I need to see Sue. I have to.

Fire is in my chest, but it's the good kind. It's a fit of passion, it's the heat saying that I will go home. Comforting me in this time of grief and anger. My determination shining through it all. I'm going home. I'm getting my fucking girl. I want to tell her how I feel.

Just not right this moment. I'm currently perched in a tree, like a crow. That nickname. I've had lots of nicknames over the years. I've heard all of them. Crow. Freak of nature. Every name you could imagine, every fist that could have been thrown my way. I've gotten through it all, and I'll sure as hell make it through this, too. I have to.

Through all this, I didn't utter a word. Nothing. Not even an angry mutter. I was perfectly polite, and it flipping off the entire country like I wanted to. Instead, I remained silent as I heard shuffles underneath me. I don't see anyone, but I hear the running go right around my little tree. I hope someone will take whoever it is out for me. I want to win, but I don't want any more blood on my hands than necessary. I already have the guy from District 2 on my list, and that's good enough for a little while.

…

The gift comes a few hours later. The soft beeping package floating down my me. It landed right in my arms. Legs feeling numb, I readjust my position as I examine the gift. Lucky. Expensive. Any gift at this point in the game must cost a fortune. Who was stupid enough to squander away money in me? As I open it, I realize who's that stupid. District 10. The entire district, sending me two small loaves of bread.

It's exactly like it is back home, the way Mom made it. Yes, it was hard and grainy, but it was what your rations got you. I'd like to think it's from Sue directly. Breaking off a piece, I place it in my mouth and it's like I'm back home again. Mom and Dad talking quietly to one another, Amber and I busying ourselves with small household chores when we weren't at school or doing our work in the livestock department.

Underneath the loaves is a weighty piece of paper with fine black print on it.

_You're doing great, Dawn. Sorry that Jovanni died, but you had to know he wasn't going to make it. If I could bet, I'd put all my money on you._

_Sincerely, Graeson Loreal_

_P.S. these were supposed to be for both of you, so eat wisely_

The note, let alone my mentor, just made me that much more confident in what I've set out to do. I will win. For Jovanni who "wasn't going to make it," and for me. And for Sue. For all of us in District 10. I'm going home.

**Georgia Dale, D11: **

I always thought that Winstead and Abilene would get married. Everyone did. Me, Mother, Father, Abilene's Mother, Abilene's Father, Barric. The entire district. I think both of them kind of expected it too, even if they would've never said it aloud. It was just a matter of time. That was, until they both got reaped. Both of them. It was the cruelest twist of fate anyone could imagine. At first it was okay. We could watch them, everyone sitting in the main room of our house or the Ackerman's. We were all there together when they kissed for the first time. Even Barric shed a tear or two, after proclaiming it was totally gross. I slapped his arm, telling him that it was sweet. It was just the next day when Abilene died. We all cried again that day, for a very different reason.

Barric was my closest friend, and I saw how much watching his sister died affected him. He was almost identical to Abilene, in demeanor and looks, even if they were three years apart. Just like me and Winstead. Honestly, considering how desperate our parents were to have kids grow up at the same time, it's a miracle we didn't have the same birth dates too. He was a shell of what he was before. It was just a few hours ago when we were pulled onto a train, both my family and the Ackerman's. Barric was locked in his car and wouldn't open it until we were in the Capitol.

Now we're here. All of us sitting together, barric holding his mother's hand tightly. He's fourteen, and holding his mother's hand. I completely understand it. My own hand is held tight in Mom's. Our clasped hands were laying on the sofa in between us. The tears in my eyes blurred the scene in front of me. It didn't matter, I knew what was there. A capitolite women, asking us questions. All sorts of questions too. About Winstead, about Abilene. She asked about their relationship and how our families are so close, and about a million other things.

Dad answers almost all of the questions. Barric is doing even worse than I am, uncontrollably crying. His parents are just slightly better. Each one looking miserable and severely depressed. They couldn't even pretend to smile.

I just feel numb. Winstead had killed someone this morning. A stranger. He murdered someone. Winstead. I still can't believe it. Mom and Dad just shook their heads, saying that this monster wasn't their son. I hope they're right.

"And what about you, Georgia?" I missed the first part of the question.

Blushing, I work not to wipe the tears from my cheeks, "I'm sorry? Could you repeat the question?" Rexa Corsan laugh, her face barely moving as the harsh sound left her lips,

"How do you feel about Winstead's sudden change after Abilene's heartbreaking death?"

I know the words are coming out of her mouth, and I know she wants to sound sorry. I know all this, and yet I see the smallest inclination of a smile on her lips, even with her dead eyes. I look at mom before answering, asking if it's okay to answer with my eyes. She nods, squeezing my hand with three small pulses.

"Well," I start, carefully thinking about every word before I say it, "this isn't Winstead," my voice sounds nasally and stuffed up.

"It's not? Well then, who is it?" she's nearly shouting, she's so excited to get something out of anyone other than Mom or Dad.

"I know Winstead. He's kind and happy and loving. All the time. I swear he's a robot, just smiling all the time. But this… this guy on the screens, he's not my Winstead. My older brother doesn't kill people. He doesn't-" Mom cut me off, and her hand grips mine to harshly I'm losing my circulation

"What Georgia means is that we hope that this is just a phase. Winstead is a very kind boy, very sweet. Abilene's death did something awful to him, but we have hope that he'll return to his normal self."

It's not good enough for Corsan. She leans in like she's telling a secret or saying something vulgar, "but what is he doesn't? What if this is the new him is here to stay? Would you still want him to win?"

My mother stands, suddenly, her hand ripping itself away from mine, "Of course," her voice finally breaks, and she starts crying. Just like the rest of us, "Of course I want my boy home. I love him, I'll always love him. I just want to tell him that again." she storms away, hands over her face, just muffling the sobs I can hear coming on.

Look what the games have done to us all of us. Everyone on the stage, the audience watching us, Winstead. A dead Abilene. It's only been a few days, and yet the world has completely shifted. The spot on the sofa beside me is now empty, and I'm not looking at anyone. Just playing with the ends of my hair. It's curled, the ringlets draping over my shoulders.

"And the Ackerman family," the subject is changed and I'm grateful, I can already feel the uncontrollable sob building up in my chest, "how do you feel about this? You've certainly been very quiet." the silence is long and controlled. It's Barric who finally works up the words,

"I just don't want to lose anyone else."

The audience pities us. Pities. The ones who put us in this situation Abilene is dead because of their games. My brother is unrecognizable because of their games. They make a pitying sound, a pang of consolation, after Barric's heartbreaking sentence,

"I'm sorry for your loss, dear," Rexa's eyes go to his, but I can imagine he looks away, "but on that note, I'm afraid this interview must draw to a close. Thank you all for coming tonight. I hope to see you again soon." with that, we all exit the stage, applause sounding behind us. I hug Barric the moment we're offstage. He's taller than I am, but just by a little bit. He's grateful, not putting up any fight. I don't know where Mom went, I just hope she'll be alright.

They send us back on the train a few hours later. Back to district 11. Back home. Without Abilene. Without Winstead. Without anything.

**Sorry for the stupidly long chapter, I just didn't want to cut anything out, and so you got this. I'll try to keep them to a better length in the next few days, but st this point who knows? I'll update again as soon as possible (I'm on a roll here, and I don't want to mess with it). Bye. **

* * *

**Eulogies **

Fallen of Day 7

**8**: Sequoia Carsyn

Killed by Winstead Dale

She wasn't supposed to die today. I knew she was never going to win, but I didn't figure that her death would be so soon. I really don't know how I feel about her. She was interesting, and I liked writing from her POVs, but she wasn't going to last. I'll miss her.


	34. Chapter 34- Day 8

**Chapter 34: Day 8**

**Sue Ritz, District 10**

Dawn volunteered for me nearly two weeks ago. Ever since then I've gone between hating her and loving her. Sometimes both at the same time. Right now I hate her. She thought I couldn't handle it. Why couldn't she have just stepped aside, just cried silently in the crowd, and say goodbye and do everything you're supposed to do? Instead, it was reversed. I had to say goodbye, I was forced to watch the games from the safety of District 10. But to be fair to Dawn, I hate everything at the moment. Sitting on a deceptively comfortable couch, bright studio lights beating down on my head, the interviewer sitting across from me. Dawn sat here, talked to this woman just a week ago. That seems like ages ago while also feeling like it was just a moment ago. I'd like to think I can feel her in the air.

"How close were you and Dawn?" I scoffed, quickly smothering the sound with a cough. I shouldn't have, but come on, she's asking for it,

"She volunteered for me. What do you think?"

Taking it as an actual question, she tries to give a genuine response, "I assume you two were very close."

"The closest. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember," I don't entirely know what we are. We were close friends for years, but that last year. It was different. This tension hung between us in the air every time we spoke.

"My, you two are sweet. Is it just the two of you?" as much as she tries to sound energetic, there's nothing behind her eyes,

"For the past few years," I hedge, almost like a question. It used to be the three of us. Sue, Dawn and Jovanni. We were the best of friends. Then Jovanni turned on Dawn. he wanted to stay friends, but I couldn't do that to Dawn. So three was whittled down to two.

The day after she left on the train, I went to Dawn's house. I don't know why, but I remember knocking on the door. Her little sister opened the door. Amber looked pretty awful, still sad. I didn't see any of them the night before, which was to be expected. There was a celebration in the streets, celebrating all the children saved from the games this year. Only the Ritz's and the Gold's stayed indoors, windows shuttered tight and not budging until long into the next day. They were still shut as she let me inside.

I asked to see Dawn's room. I don't know why. Honestly, I don't know why I did anything that day. All the same, I'm so glad I did. It was as I sat down on her bed, the small one beside the even smaller one in a room off the main room, that Dawn's Mom came in. she held in her hands a large heap of thick wool blankets. In one outstretched hand she held a note,

"I found this," she said, "it was in between the blankets. I think it's for you." her face was tear stained and red, her voice choked. I took it. I haven't cried. I don't think I will. I know I should, but my body refused to. Even now, sitting on this stage, I just look blankly around.

I felt the comfort of the slip of paper in my pocket. Ict was neatly folded. Paper is expensive, not to mention ink. What's the best is what it said. I have it memorized. Yeagh, I should. It seems like all I've done since she left is read that letter over and over again. I'm not even sure if it's a letter. Whatever it is, I know that I love it. And love her.

"Did you know Jovanni well?" Jovanni. He's dead. I don't really know how I feel about that. Especially after everything.

"I guess. Not as well as Dawn but-" I cut myself off, already feeling like an idiot,

"But you know Dawn really well, don't you?"

"Yeah?" It is a question, because I've already answered this. I've already told her how close we were. Are. she's still here. She's still living. The words of her letter are printed on my mind, everything Dawn wrote never leaving me, and I'm so thankful. It's helping me get through the interview.

"So what did you think of Jovanni kissing her in his last moments?" the first word that comes to mind is jealousy. I should have kissed her. I wish I had. More than that, I wish I would be able to right now. I don't want to watch her,

"I think it was sweet," the words are cruel in my mouth. It sounded like a lie even to me. Not that the issue is pushed. Instead, I just feel uncomfortable as she brushes over what I say,

"So, do you think she'll be next?" It takes a minute to hear what she said. She really said that. I know it's just a question, but it brought up some of the arguments in my mind for the worst case scenarios. Seeing her die in a million different ways all over. I can't handle this. I feel the tears just start in my eyes. My vision blurring around the edges.

I stand up, blood rushing to my face, "Dawn's going to win. She'll win for our stupid district. For everyone," she'll win for us. And, as selfish as it is, for me. I storm off with her confused and mouth hanging open in shock. That'll show her. I should feel proud, instead I feel only tears. They drip down my face. I manage to avoid everyone backstage, just sprinting away. I don't know where. Just away.

…

It's half a day later, and I'm back at home. It should feel good, or at least better than at the Capitol, but I'm just numb. I did manage to stop crying. I hate it. I hate crying, I hate weakness of any kind. Finally alone and in my house, I take out Dawn's letter.

_I doubt you'll ever read this. No. I know you'll never read this. I'll never work up the courage to actually give this to you. I know we've always been close. I used to love you like a sister. Now… now I just don't know. Everything's different. _

_I've thought out these words again and again. Over and over. Editing out the contents of this letter long before I write out these words. Yet it still sounds stupid. Yep. you're not getting to see this. I'm probably going to look this over a hundred times before deciding it's too stupid and tossing it in the hearth. I might just stop it right here and find the closest fire. Okay, I'm not. I worked too hard to get this paper, I'm not using it as kindling. No, this will stay hidden under my bed. Just another reminder of Dawn Night's cowardice. _

_But I'll take this seriously. I'll actually consider giving this to you. I should probably start by explaining what's been going on with me. In the past few years, I think I've grown closer to you. Not in a friend way, but in an "I think I'm in love with you" way. I finally wrote it out. I love you. I can't believe I just wrote it. It feels good. I feel accomplished. I know I've admitted how I truly feel without ever having to confront you about it. _

_I can imagine you reading this. You know who you are, I don't want to use your name. I don't want to make it real. I want to stay safe and lonely. I need to. I can imagine you reading this. Your hands on the paper. I'd like to think after you finish reading this, you'd throw it aside and take me in your arms. Tell me that this isn't one sided. Okay. I'm burning this. _

But she didn't, and I'm so glad she didn't. I hold the paper close to my chest, folding it perfectly along the line again. I damage it only as much as I already have. I can hear the words said in her voice, her stupid, anxious, lovely voice. I'll never admit I miss her, but I do. I miss her so much. I would do exactly what she imagined if she were in front of my right now. I want to. All I need is the chance.

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

Up on my mountain top, it seems like the rest of the world is a thousand miles away. A sweet notion, I'd only it wasn't disturbed by last night. When the arena's edges were completely obliterated. It fell away from our tiny world, reminding me that I wasn't alone. It was a force of nature, manipulated by the game makers.

If it kept happening, then I'd get maybe three safe days up here. But just to be safe, I start to make my way to the bottom of the hill. Eventually. There are a few things I need to get in order first. Removing the bandage, I tuck it in my pocket as I reapply the healing balm to my arm. Just to be safe. The swellings gone down, and the marks have been healed almost perfectly. My arm is still stiff and sore. Just a few days and it should be good as new.I reward the bandage with tight efficiency. So I walk. It's hard to get down, my legs stiff with lack of use.

As the steep decline evened out, I found the small stream I saw before I walked up. Only it was different now. The water ran thinly, just enough for it to flow. Leaning over it, the smell stopped me in my tracks. Putrid chemicals attack my nose. The sharp smell. I was about to touch it when I stopped myself. That would be stupid. I'm not stupid. Instead, I grabbed a cracked, dead leaf. Taking it by the stem, I drop it in the river. I can't even call it a river honestly. It drifts through the air, floating down slowly to the water. Nothing should happen. It should float on the top before sinking. That's not what happened.

I hear the sizzling first. It hisses in my ears like a snake, or maybe wood in an open hearth. I watch as the water bubbles around the reddish brown leaf. The water foams white around it. It lasts for a while, but when the uproar settles, the leaf is just gone. Burnt up and dissolved in the water. The water that clearly isn't water. If only I could actually use this. I don't want to touch it, but I could if I had to. The healing ball could probably help any injuries dealt by the acid. This could easily kill someone, shoved down someone's throat or just burning through their skin. Even the thought turns my stomach, but I remember what's been beaten into me. _Kill or be killed. _I'll remind myself again a thousand times over. _Kill or be killed. _

As I bend over, I feel the prick of a knife against my side. Right. The fangs. They're all there. The makeshift knives are sharper than the actual ones, and quite possibly poisonous. I felt safer with them. Even if using them would probably make me want to throw up.

I follow the streak to the middle of the arena. If I remember correctly, this will lead me right to the cornucopia. I have a plan, and I'm sure the viewers know it. I can already hear the commentary in my head.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

All things considered, these games have been pretty easy. I haven't had to kill anyone or anything, I've had only minimal conflict. Nothing more than a bruise on my hip from when Acer tackled me. He's dead now. I can't imagine that delicate little girl killing him, but that's what must have happened. I wonder if she hates me now. If she'll come for me. She'll have to find me first.

I haven't moved since yesterday, minus some light jogging in circles to keep warm as the temperature dropped. I had plenty of food, but I need to be careful with it. So that's what I spent all morning doing. Calculating how much food and water I needed each day. I can last 4 days at least, and that's with extra food each day. Stomach growling, I try to tear the packaging off a package of dried meat. My fingers stiff with cold, my breath going white in the air before dissipating in the air.

When I finally got it open, I carefully took small bites. I would only allow myself a little. For now. It tastes like sawdust in my mouth, but I don't need to enjoy it. I just need to not starve to death. Something that I find very useful in a game to the death.

So that's what I do. I spend the rest of my day splitting up the food into equal amounts, just enough for each day to not starve. If I only eat what I've decided is a good portion each day, then I'll last long in to the coming weeks. Okay, maybe 1 week. But that's enough for a plan to form. If I stay to myself, then maybe they'll take each other out without me. But I'll have to do something eventually. Take someone out. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, I am completely satisfied with waiting for something to happen. I don't know what, and it doesn't matter. I feel like any offensive move now would be stupid. I'd probably just get myself killed, and that wouldn't help anyone.

Throughout the day I eat what I've allowed myself for today. Some meat, half a roll and a certain amount of water. I'm really careful with the litre or water, not wasting a single drop. It's awkward holding it to my lips as I take multiple small sips throughout the day. Altogether a pretty uneventful day. Uneventful, a word meaning I'm still very much alive.

**Winstead Dale, D11M:**

I spotted her first. A small girl frozen, staring me down. The moment she sees my eyes go to her, she turns and sprints. She quick, light on her feet. I point it out to Rusty, but she's already running after her. I'm running too, knowing what this means. More blood spilt. More and more. Yet nothing will make up for Abilene. I run even faster, even harder. The girl seemed to disappear, she was so far ahead of us, darting around and through bushes. I continue to follow her. Ducking through all sorts of trees and bushes, slipping on loose rocks and all kinds of other things. Twigs break under my feet as I storm after her.

But something isn't right. I stop suddenly, realizing Rusty is now longer beside me. Where is she? I imagine her dead on the ground, just dropping dead for no reason, and it makes me smile. But looking around, I find there's no one around me. They're both just gone. But I haven't heard a canon. I heard the grunt and cursing next, all from somewhere behind me. Running there with my knife out, I cut through the bushes just in time to see Rusty stand up, looking at her hand. There's blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. It's not enough. There's never enough. The other girl just disappears around the corner into a thicket of trees. I try to follow her, but Rusty stops me, shoving me backwards. It's way harder than I expected, stumbling backwards, I nearly fell.

"Leave her be. She'll probably get herself killed," she was trying to play it off, but something was wrong. I couldn't quite place it, but I don't care.

"How'd she get away?" I demand, angry. She shouldn't have gotten away, she should be bleeding out on the ground. Now. I should cut her up more than she already is. It's never enough. I need it. But she's already gone.

"Just drop it," Rusty sounds exhausted. I don't put up a fight, just let her lead. It's nice not to think every once in a while. Just be told once to do. I still want blood. But I can't have it.

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

She darted out from the bushes. I recognized the girl right away. The mute from 3, Athena Lightes. Of course Winstead had blown right by her. Of course I made an alliance with another thick-skulled idiot. At least this one's easily manipulated, twisted and mangled by grief. She crashed into me, bouncing off my shoulder and hitting the ground. Dirt flies up in the air around her, and as the small girl rolls over to scramble away, I freeze. I already have my rusted, old knife out, but I can't move. Because I don't see her. I see me. It's the cut that does it. Running from the corner of her mouth and splitting the edge of one eyebrow. There's blood all over her terrified face, her shirt, the jacket tied around her waist. I'm in that dark alley all over again, fourteen and alone.

_Avery's older sister is dead. My best friend had just lost her older sister. What's worse, is that she was killed by Kaz. Kaz. I miss him. It's only been a few weeks, but I haven't talked to him for too long. Avery stepped away from me the moment it happened, the commentary over top of it talking about it being the rivalry of the century. Two similar minded kids from the same district dueling it out for seventh place. Avery's hands were clenched in tight fists, anger written out clear as day all over her face, clear as day and just as painful. _

_The sun had nearly disappeared into the ground, and my entire body ached. Just the sign of a good match. I normally fought Avery, but she ditched as soon as she could. She's just upset, her sister was just murdered in front of her. But come on, we're trained for this sort of thing. The whole point of going into the games is proving that you're the best, and Keria just wasn't. Neither was Kaz. _

_Sweat still dripping down my face and staining my shirt, no one even looked at me when I got into the house. Mom's been crying, her face red and blotchy. I can hear Gov's sobs coming from the next room. Stepping into the room, I saw the little figure disappear into the kitchen. I called out for him, only to be cut off by the replay still on the screen. Kaz, in the middle of a fight. It was against a boy I didn't recognize, with blonde hair and tanned skin. Probably 4 if i had to guess. I watched in horror as Kaz's blood seeped out of a wound in his stomach. His eyes went blank and distant before the body hit the ground. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. He's wasn't good enough. I won't be good enough. I'll never be enough. _

_I didn't cry that night, even if I felt like I should. I just lost a brother, I should be devastated. We were close, and now I'll never see him again. Never hold his hand or fight him in the ring. I should feel something more than this emptiness. But he was a failure. My older brother was a failure. I will be too. _

_I couldn't sleep. It was hours later, yet I still couldn't see anything but Kaz's dead eyes. So I've just been staring up at the ceiling. My eyes had long since been adjusted to the darkness, so when I decided to go outside and take a walk, it wasn't too difficult. _

_My shoes only half on my feet, I walked oh tree front door in a trance. The moon my only source of light. I saw her before I stool more than a step. Avery, her king Boone hair stringy and over her face. Everything about her face was angry and murderous. I tried to go back inside, but her two brothers took my shoulders, yanking me front me sanctuary. They were both huge, shoulders like mountain with huge bulky bodies. Little Amber Steele was nothing against them. One 17 and the other 18, they were both just as angry as Avery. The older one was Keria's twin brother. _

_Each fist hit me with the monstrous precision. Each kick breaking through skin and shattering my insides. The pain is unreal. It hurt. _

I remember everything they did to me. Every kick. Every name they called my family. They called me, and called Kaz. thinking back, I understand it. Anger does monstrous things to people, what I didn't understand -and I doubt I ever will- was Avery. She stood by most of the time, just watching it all happen. By that point, at least one of my ribs were cracked, and my nose was broken and my body was covered in my own blood. She was the one to pull out the knife. The one to carve the wicked scars into my face.

I can imagine just how far they would have pushed it. What they would've done to me if Father hadn't heard the screaming from his bedroom. The three bolted the moment he stepped out of the house. Father's never looked at me the same again.

This girl looks so much like I did. Bruised and covered in dried blood. Scared and alone. I must have been frozen, staring at her, for God knows how long. I tell myself to snap out of it. I try to tell myself to smarten up and just kill this girl. To get it over with. It doesn't have to be fancy. I should just break her neck. But I can't. I can't stop seeing me. I can't stop seeing a betrayed, scared, weak little girl. That is, until her fist connects with my jaw. It's a weak throw, but I drop to the ground anyways, purposely throwing the knife to the side. The inside of my cheek is torn against my teeth, and I taste metal. I look up just as she disappears into a thick area of trees. I see her for only a few moments before she's gone. I let her go. I'm weak.

Why did I let her take my knife? I'm such an idiot. I couldn't do it. I hate myself so much in this moment, but at the same time I want to do something I haven't done in a long time. At first I didn't quite know what was happening. My cheeks were wet, and my vision was blurred. The word came to me after only a moment, pulled deep from the recesses of my mind. Crying. I'm crying. There are tears on my face, dripping down my chin. I wipe them away, sniffing loudly. I'm still that weak little girl. No matter what I've done to get stronger and more brutal, no matter who I've killed, I'm still in that alley. I can't quite shake it off.

It's as I touch the blood in the corner of my mouth Winstead appears. His eyes are darting all around us. He must see her disappear behind me, and he tries to follow, sword raised. I put a hand on his chest, stopping him,

"Leave her be. She'll probably get herself killed," I don't want to see her again. Ever. I don't want to see that version of myself ever again. I'll only accept it in the sky. Without that cut. Without the bruises. Without everything that makes her me.

"How'd she get away?" I shrug, not answering,

"Let's just go." I don't feel like myself right now. I need to just calm down, to stop my racing heart.

I don't feel normal and calm again for hours. We just walk in silence. I want to find someone else. I wasn't to hurt someone. I want to imagine it's Avery on the receiving end. Yet we don't find anyone. I should have killed her. If I ever see her again, I will.

**Athena Lightes, D3F:**

Why am I not dead? Why am I still running and free? Like a chicken with its head cut off, I run without a destination in mind. Away. I'm going away. My hand hurts, and it feels like might have broken a finger on her jaw. Her. She didn't kill me. I believe her name is Amber Steele, from District 2.

She could have. She should have. But she just stood there. The look on her face was pale and afraid. She was in my direction, at my face, but looking right through me. I don't know what she was seeing, but I didn't stick around to find out.

I was just given another chance at living. I used to think that I'd never get home. Sure, it wasn't much, but I'm thinking about what it can be. Living in the victors village, my father drunk somewhere and no longer my problem. Maybe making friends with the other victors, a very small pool, but there are a few. Maybe they'd understand what it felt like to kill. Just to kill. Do they feel like I do? About murder? I never thought about what it truly meant to win until now. It's not winning, it's just living through a massacre. Maybe even causing one.

It makes you feel different. Powerful. I am powerful. I killed him, took him out of this world in an instant too quick to fully enjoy. But it's more than that. I am fully capable of winning, but for that, I need a plan. Blood is still dried on my face, but I don't notice it as I studied the knife. It was covered in rust, dried blood all over the handle. I just don't know who the blood belongs to. Whoever it is, they are almost certainly dead now. Who isn't dead, anyways? The girl I saw this morning for one- Amber Steele from 2. Then Lillith and Drake from 5, the girl from 9, another girl from 10, and Amber's ally that ran past me. I think he's from 11. So that's who's left. The pool of 24 cut down to 7. Any of us could come out on top. I continue to walk, moving along the bank of an empty riverbank. There's mud in the bottom, just the smallest amounts of water mixing with the dirt.

If only I had the iodine and water bottle. It was all still in the cave. I wasn't thinking, I was so stupid. I should have grabbed it. Stoping, I suddenly realized it would probably still be there. Lillith was gone, I don;t know where she is, but I don't want to see her. She wouldn't risk going back there, she was too cautious. Which is exactly why I feel safe turning back and running the opposite direction, back to where I killed Acer.

It's right along with bank, if I follow it long enough I'll get there. As I run, I look on the ground, being careful not to trip on the loose rocks or anything else I could easily catch myself on.I narrowly avoid tripping a few times as I run. I don't know how long I've run, all I know is that I stop as soon as I find the blood in the grass. Acer's blood. The sun had nearly set by now, meaning I have only a little time before darkness overtakes me.

Continuing on, I notice something is wrong almost immediately. I get to the edge much quicker than I remember. I look carefully over the side, I look for the ledge. It's not there. I run along the entire side, until I get to the trees, but no. Nothing. It's just gone. Severely confused, it all goes out the window as I look over the edge again, this time looking on the green side. Where there used to be more rock, there is now dirt and uprooted trees. What does that mean? It was nearly dark now. Of course. Whatever, I'll figure it out tomorrow, I can't do anything now. I find a wide tree and sit down in its roots. It's surprisingly comfortable. I just hear the anthem as I slip off the sleep, the wonderings all still on my mind.

**Drake Ru, D5M:**

I'm starving. Literally starving. I haven't found anything in here I can trust, but I know that if I don't choose soon I'll die anyways. My stomach aches with hunger. It's been a long time since I felt this, not after Lin got married to the mayor. Our entire family was elevated. At least enough to not go hungry, which was nice. Up until this moment. I've forgotten how to be truly hungry. So why does it hurt more than I remember? My throat is dry, lips cracked and parched. The roof of my mouth is like sandpaper against my tongue, my tongue also feeling like sandpaper.

Anxiety pushes me forward. Everything looks poisonous, and it feels like there's a monster right behind me - ready to kill of the days in training I spent entirely at the safe foods station. With Solana. I don't want to think about her. I don't want to think about how easily I could have ended up like her. So instead I focus on what I learned. But things are getting confused in my brain. I remember the voice telling us its poisonous or not. And how to identify it, but I can't remember whether you used it to identify what's safe to eat or poisonous. I remember only a few definite safe kinds of fruits or vegetation, but I don't find any of it. I'm beginning to feel light headed and nauseous. I would probably throw up right now, if I had anything to throw up. I still dry heave. It feels like fire in my throat, and it doesn't go away after I stand up and continue in my search.

I investigate each new kind of fruit carefully. I found a new bush, and approach it cautiously. It's like walking up to it slowly will stop it from killing me if I put it on my tongue. The berries on the bush are small, about the size of a fingernail, and a dark blue hue. Peeling the blueish skin back with my thumbnail, I find the insides are a green veined with more of the blue, which is pale and faint. I don't know if it safe. It could be. There is a 50% chance of it being completely fine and okay to eat, but that's still only 50%. If I'm wrong, I'm 100% dead. I can't trust my own judgement.

Just to be safe I drop it on the ground, kicking dirt over it and kicking the the berry into the base of the bramble. Moving on, I go through three more kinds, all of which I deemed unsafe to eat. There are another blue one, these ones huge and almost pulsing. I didn't even touch those ones, just kept walking. Then there was the lopsided red fruits that hung from a large, lively tree. They just didn't look like they'd be good even if they wouldn't kill me. I probably wouldn't be able to get a bite down. Finally, I came to a large bush of green berries, the inside matching the outside. I recognized them from training. The voice of the assistant over the memory, saying that these are safe to eat. I pluck it from the branch, investigating the small fruit in my palm. I'm unable to pull a name from my memory, but I'm going to stick to the "this is edible" bit.

Carefully, I place it on my tongue. Right away, I don't drop dead. So I consider that a good sign. As I break through the skin, the sweetness overtakes me. It's sickly sweet, and I want to spit it out. I don't. I get it down. Then a second. Then a third. I keep eating them. And I don't drop dead. Another good sign. At least I think I'm not dying. I don't actually know what dying feels like. I could be about to die and wouldn't know it.

The first hour passes. Then another, and I'm still walking. I've calmed down since the morning, now able to think rationally. I'm probably quite close to the center of the arena. I'll probably have a few days here, if the arena continues to deteriorate at the current rate. So I stay, and I wait for the night to come. All I need now is water.

**Dawn Night, D10F:**

Below me on the ground, is a pile of dead birds. They're the same ones that attacked me the other day, when Jovanni helped me. I don't need him this time. I don't need anyone anymore. I hit them over their monstrous little heads, grabbing them from the air and snapping their tiny necks. I absently scrape the blood from under my fingernails as I watch the sun set. It's just an hour or so until the anthem plays.

It comes earlier than I expected. As soon as darkness fell, the hovercraft appears. It projects the Panem seal onto the sky. Since no one died today, as soon as it's over, the hovercraft disappears as quickly as it reappeared.

The days have stretched into an eternity, but this one has been the first in a while without any deaths. Especially with 7 people left. The only people I've seen since the initial bloodbath were Jovanni and the boy from 2. Both of whom are now six feet under. I've gotten lazy, matching the days that stretch long by doing absolutely nothing. I'm slow and sluggish, only eating when I needed too, and sometimes not even when I need it. I've spent the last few days since Jovanni died just thinking, and it's gotten pretty deep on an emotional level. I don't even have anyone to talk to about it, just sitting with my thoughts.

I break open the plastic packaging on some dried meat. I ate only a few bites before losing interest, and putting it back in the bag. I take a cord which came from the other bag, and tie it around my waist and the trunk of the tree. I don't need to die that way. That would probably be the dumbest way to die. Probably causing more laughter than shed tears. Yeah. I'm not going out that way. I'd rather die any other way.

Sleep doesn't find me for another few hours, instead, I just stare up at the full moon. The still full moon. It hasn't changed in the entire week we've been in here. I find comedy in the lie. Everything in here is a lie. Even my dream is a lie. Sue's not here, yet that's what I imagine as I sleep. I don't want to relive the beautiful lie anymore. It's too cruel. Too cruel to wake and find her thousands of miles away.

When I wake up, she's not there. A ghost far away. Too far to even be considered a ghost. She just doesn't exist in this world. Not until I come home.

**Jamie Amparo, District 5**

I've always had a special hatred for Rexa Corsan. For all the capitolites, but her face was the one most closely related to the games. All the interviews and summaries done by her and her fake, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. Well, her and the President. I don't even want to think about him. Now face to face, I hate her even more. I'm not even sure I can call it hatred anymore. She's so enthusiastic about manslaughter. The slaughter of children, no less. The tinkly laugh and the way all her statements float off at the end, like she's asking a question. It's hard to differentiate between the two. It takes all of my strength of will, and the memory of Lillith, to keep me from jumping up and cursing out this entire place. I don't want anything I do to be taken out on Lillith. She's going through enough as it is.

"So," her dress is midnight blue, sparkling under the lights. The only thing brighter is the diamonds in her hair. Actual diamonds. With clear cut edges and ranging in all sizes, "what was your relationship with Lillith?" Like I know. The four of us were always close, but Lillith and I… I just don't know. So I answer hesitantly,

"I don't know. We were really good friends,"

"Really? You sound unsure. Was it more than just friendship between you?" was. Like she's already dead. My rage spiked with those words, my own coming out short and clipped.

"No." sure, there was some flirting, nothing more. At least from her side, I did most of the flirting. I don't know how I feel about her. What's definable is our friendship. I'll stick to that, for now. She moves on, barely taking in my answer.

"And you're eighteen, yes?" she cocks her head to the side, and it's a miracle that the wig doesn't slide off her head, all the diamonds clattering to the floor. Imagining that, and the embarrassment it would cause this woman made me smile. It was genuine, my first one since I got on the train.

"Yeah," in my pockets, my fists are clenched and most likely losing colour. It was just days before the reaping.

"So there's no chance of you going into the hunger games at this point. But your younger sister could still be reaped, right? She's only…" she trails off, seemingly forgetting Hayley's age,

"Haley's fifteen," she's been tagging along with us for as long as I can remember. Brendon liked to make fun of her for her age, two years younger than both of Lillith and him. She seemingly changed the subject, but the two previous questions were obviously just segways into this one,

"How did you feel when Lillith's name was called?" a thousand things all at once. The shock of it hit me first. Then as she walked up the stairs, still fidgeting with stupid paper flower I gave her, all I felt was white hot rage. The fear hit me last,

"I wanted to volunteer for her," I whisper,

"But obviously you couldn't. But you could have volunteered and went in beside her. Why didn't you?" Because of Hayley, and Brendon, and my entire family. And Lillith too. She would hate me if I tried to volunteer to go in with her, at least for the first little while. She'd probably say something along the lines of "I can take care of myself," or "I can't believe how idiotic you are," or "why did you do this to me?" So I didn't. I tried to keep myself calm,

"Because my my friends couldn't take another heartbreak," I heard a sweet sigh form the audience. I saw someone in the front even tearing up a bit, hands placed over hearts. As if they have hearts. They don't get to feel they don't get to experience anything they've taken away.

"What about that dear little girl from 3? Why do you think Lillith just gave in?" I've been thinking about that ever since it happened, but I think I have it figured out at this point,

"It's a game of survival. It's all about one person, yourself. And in there, it's kill or be killed. There was the threat of torture or even death, and I know she wouldn't put herself through that again. Not for someone she barely knows. She'd rather kill herself."

"Again?" I curse myself silently. I have a bad habit of not thinking when I'm angry. Just letting the words out without evaluating if it's safe for the presence company. I've been arrested a few times for saying things I shouldn't have. Ad a few other things, but I don't want to think about that right now.

"Yeah. again," I'm just digging myself a hole I can't crawl out of. _Just don't do anything stupid. _"What happened?" She gasped, her eyes going wide, like she's uncovered some great mystery, "does this have to do with those scars?" She only saw Lil's face, not her arm. She hates anyone seeing it. Even me, who helped her that night. I understand. I can't imagine how awful it was. I remember those days before the twins found her. She just disappeared. I couldn't think. I can't now. I try to keep it brief.

"A few years ago, Lillith went missing. It was just a few days, but everyone was scared. It turned out she was kidnapped. I don't know what this guy wanted, but he kept her tied up I am abandoned building for days. I found her first. That night, her two older brothers, they're twins, came in and tried to save her. He cut her up before they found her. The man was executed the next day in the town square." But there was so much more to it. I can't even let myself relive it. She was gone. Just gone. Then when we found her, and blood was everywhere.

I remember all the yelling that night. It was all I heard. Quietly, the only below ear shattering decibels that night, I remember taking her hand. I held her close and stroked her hair. I remember washing the blood out from under my fingernails. I had told her it would be alright, and look what's happened since then.

All these questions seem too forced. Unnatural. The monster doesn't know how to talk to a human being. The only thing grounding me is the thought of Lillith safe and home. With us. With me. "Oh my," I see her eyes goes small with thoughts. She can't imagine what I'm saying. How could something so terrible happen and it wasn't the result of their games. Sometimes people are just crazy, even crazier than them. Let her think on that. I think I'm about to break down. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I just want to go. I want to keep this fire of hope in my chest. Hope against all odds she'll come back. Well, the odds are actually 1 in 7.

* * *

**Another day down in the books. I've been really busy in the past little while, so sorry for the delay and all, but I got it done - and I'm pretty sure it's not completely awful. Either way, tell em what you think. who do you want to see next chapter for the interviews? just as a recap, we've had one for Rusty (Jessi), Winstead (Georgia), Dawn (Sue), and Lillith (Jamie). I hope you enjoyed it. I'll try to get Day 9 as soon as possible. I've already started as I'm editing this chapter.**

* * *

**Remaining Tributes: **

Rusty Steele (D2F), Athena Lightes (D3F), Lillith Sparks, (D5F), Drake Ru (D5M), Mica Lee (D9F), Dawn Night (D10F), Winstead Dale (D11M)


	35. Chapter 35-Day 9

**Hello. Sorry for the delay. I spent a long time plotting out the rest of the story, and am currently flipping between two different victors. I've just been in this slump for the past month or so. I haven't been writing or reading, and therefore I didn't finish this until now. **

**I'm sure you don't care. I'm a random stranger on the internet- you don't need my life story, so let's just get into today. Except one more thing. Currently, Winstead is completely insane at this point. He feels pretty sane, and everything he thinks seems okay, but just know he's absolutely lost it at this point. **

**Now, onto the murder of children.**

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**Chapter 35- Day 9 **

**Lin Ru, District 5**

I can't stop crying. It's been on and off ever since Drake left. What was even worse was seeing him on screen. I feel miserable all the time now. My baby is nearly here, one of the few good things at this bleak point. It's odd, knowing that another human being is growing inside me. I am creating a new life, right now. It's an incredible sensation, but it's forced me to grow up. Even more so than growing up in a middle class family in a poor district. That is, when I'm not a mess of conflicting emotions. My husband, Henri, is still holding my hand. He hasn't let go since we left the train. I'm pretty sure his hand must have lost feeling at this point, I've been gripping it so hard. The concern on his face hasn't lessened either, and it warms my heart every time I look at his face. One of the thousand reasons I married him. Of course, then I think about Drake again. About how he's all alone in the arena with murderous children, that he could drop dead at any given moment and I'd be forced to watch. I feel the tears well up all over again. It's been on and off all day. Damn pregnancy, completely screwing with me emotionally until I vomit. That's been another great thing about pregnancy. The morning sickness. Sometimes afternoon sickness too. Or very late at night.

Miserable and tired, I try to keep myself calm. Henri does a better job than me at that.

Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, "we're okay. It's okay. _He's _going to be okay." his hand is on my baby bump. I've found that the space between his head and shoulder in the perfect size for my head, and I feel safe as I rest it there. One hand still in mine, he moves the other one from my stomach to my hair, running them through my long, black hair. The same colour as Drake's. Great. Now I'm thinking about him again.

"It's just so unfair."

"I know," he's quick to answer, "I know. We'll get through this. He will." He knows to not use Drake's name around me. Last time he did, it caused a day-long emotional outbreak.

Pulling back, he takes his hand out of mine. Putting both on my shoulders, he looks me right in the eye, "we'll get through this. It's only a five minute interview. Just five minutes." I nod, clearing my throat and wiping the tears from my eyes.

Perfect timing. It's just as I put a small smile on my face -purely to humour Henri- that I hear the call of Rexa Corsan, sending off Father and calling me on. With Henri. There is no way I could do this without him. Taking his hand again, we walk right by him. He's so strong, so reserved. That is, until he walks off the set. The moment they do, I watch my father's face fall. Of course. He was very close with Drake. I think it's because Drake is so much like Mother was. Drake was only 5 when she died. As the oldest of all my siblings, I have the most memories of her. Drake just gets more and more like her with each day.

I give Father a hug just before stepping out onto the stage. The cameras and people are all hidden behind blinding lights. I nearly stumbled back with the sheer force attacking my retinas. Yet I keep walking. Henri doesn't falter a step. Of course. He's way better at this sort of thing than I am. He is the Mayor, afterall. Which makes it all that weirder that the two of us somehow found each other. Clutching his hand, I walk out beside him. I need help sitting down.

"Well, hello dears," she looks around our age, coming up on maybe 30 years, so it feels weird having her call us _dears_. That's when I remember she's been doing this job for more than 30 years, and I feel even more unnerved. Every year with the exact same makeup, the exact same hair, the exact same pale blue dress and falsely tanned skin. Everything about her is fake, even the little laugh she gave as Henri helped me sit down.

"Hello, Rexa Corsan. How are you?" Henri puts on the charade for both of us. I still have tears in my eyes, and I'm trying to keep my head as for it not to be noticed by Rexa Corsan.

"I'm very well, though these games have caused some anxiety."

Anxiety. Yeah, sure. Let's pretend that you weren't elated at what's happened in the arena. I want to say something, but I choked on the words before I could get them out.

"Oh, completely," Henri agreed. Rexa leaned in, the fabric of her dress wrinkling around her waist.

"How have you two been feeling? Mr. Darnell, I'm sure you haven't had the most time with Drake, but what did it feel like to see him get reaped?"

_Just keep answering for me, please. _Henri cleared his throat, the smile back on his face, "I don't know Drake that well, but in the times I have spoken to him, I've found that he's a very smart, kind young man. He's a lot like Lin, actually." he squeezes my hand, looking back into my eyes. Really? Me and Drake? I don't see it. I give him a small smile, quickly wiping the tears off my cheeks. Please say no one noticed.

While trying to compliment me, he turned the attention on me,

"Ah, yes. Lin," her wide eyes turn to me. Readjusting my posture, I sit up straight, "how have you been during all this?" she not only gestured to the people in the audience, but to my stomach as well.

"I- uh-" I try to get rid of the thick tears in my voice by clearing my throat. I try again, "well. I'm very pregnant, as I'm sure you've noticed. I-"

"Yes! How far along are you?"

I look down, "about eight months," she makes a sound of appreciation, mimicked by the audience. I keep looking down as I answer the first question, "so yeah, this entire thing has been very difficult. This is my baby brother, you know? Sometimes I still think he's a child, you know? I mean, I watched him grow up, it's hard to realize that he's still growing up. I just don;t want to see that get cut short." my voice is choked with tears. They start falling soon as I get the words out, rushing the last few so that they run together. I tuck my head back into the alcove between Henri's head and shoulder. I just want this to be over.

…

Henri talks to the Capitolite woman for the next few minutes, the conversation occasionally turning to me. I keep my answers short and to the point. Silently keeping in sobs. The moment I get of stage I do. I finally get to really cry. Violent, body-racking sobs make me collapse into Henri. I love him. I love him so much, "th-thank you," I get it out in between sobs. No one backstage seems to notice, or at least do anything about this 28 year old woman having a freaking meltdown in the arms of the mayor of district 5. It's just Drake. It's everything he's going through right now, everything he's already faced. He's nearly half my age, and yet has done so much more than I ever could have in there. The arena. So I cry. I think he's kissing my forehead, holding me tight. He doesn't say anything, just keeps me close to his chest. I've always been so much smaller than him, even now with a baby on the way. I'm so glad I have him here with me right now. I couldn't have done this on my own.

**Winstead Dale, D11M**

The sun has been up for only a few minutes, but I'm already up. I have been for hours. I've sat and waited, watching Rusty. She could actually sleep, who knew? Even if it was fitfully. Or maybe she didn't at all. Because the moment I stepped towards her she woke, sitting bolt upright. Even in sleep, there was a dagger clenched tight in each hand. She put both away before wiping the sleep from her eyes,

"Morning, Creep," she said, voice surprisingly clear, "were you watching me sleep?"

"What? I-" I stumble my way through some kind of response, "No. no, I wasn't." she rolled her eyes, turning away from me and standing up. Shaking the sleep from her legs and arms, she walks over to one of our packs, unzipping the bag. The zipper whines as she pulls it back, just far enough to reach in and grab a roll and apple.

"Sleep well?" Amber asks. No, not Amber. Rusty. I need to get that straight. When I sign Asher right away, she sits back down, leaning against a tall tree, she pulls out another knife. How many of those does she have? She can only fit so many in her jacket, or her belt. Maybe one or two in her boots. I just can't know. This one is small and dainty.

She begins peeling the rind off the apple with the knife, the cool crunch in my ears unpleasant and distinctly threatening.

I cough, "fine."

She cocks her head to one side, one strip of the red rind falling to the ground beside her. She keeps going, not saying anything for a second. The only sound in the entire forest is the knife slicing through the apple. Another strip falls to the ground.

"Not very talkative this morning, are we?" seemingly proving her point, I don't answer.

"Hey, I mean just because you murdered some poor girl, that doesn't give you the right to ignore me. I've killed more people in this game than anyone else, but I don't go around all brooding. Seriously, you look like a wolf just ate your family or something."

"I- What? No. Uh-" I can't even say anything. She cut me off before I could stumble through any kind of response.

"Oh, that's right. It wasn't just the girl at the feast. You killed your district partner too, right? What was it? Abilene?" I get to my feet, heart pounding in my throat. Just her name brings it all back,

"How dare you. I-"

She puts her hands up, as if trying to say she won't hurt me. Even as the small knife slides between two of her fingers. Her apple is completely peeled and loosely held in the other hand.

"There's something, at least," she shrugs, going back to her apple, "I'll take what I can get. Just glad to know there's something working up there."

So annoyed, so frustrated, I had to come up with something quick. Distract her and me. If I didn't, I might do something I'll regret, "what about the other careers, huh?" I wanted to know. They were all long dead at this point, at least, as far as I remember.

She looked at me blankly, silently digging through my skull with those dagger eyes, "They're all dead."

"I know," I say, regretting even bringing it up, "I mean, how? How did they die?"

She takes a long time to answer. When she finally does, the words are slow and meticulous, "the boy from 1 died in the bloodbath. Still not sure how. Then there was Wolfe from 4, she died a few days in, thanks to an irritated stomach wound. Then there was the girl from 1, Celestyn Scoles, she was alright. Just got in my way. So I drowned her in a lake. Then there was my district partner. I had no hand in his death, but it was all the better for me- and you, I guess. Then I stuck with Marker from 4 for a while, before he tried to kill me."

She was so calm about all of it, it did all but send a shiver down my spine, "how'd he try and kill you?" My words aren't slurred and mixed up, I get them out so fast. She laughs, long and hard. It's dark, surprisingly low for a girl. It goes on for a while- at least a minute. The noise grates against my eardrums. On and on and on. An eternity or so later, she stops, "Oh, him? He tried to poison me. Earlier that morning, I showed him this stream of poisoned water. It came off that big pool near the cornucopia. Then he came up with the genius idea of putting it in my canteen. So, I stabbed him." just as calm as before. She looks up at me, a devilish smile on her lips.

That seemed to be the end of it, both of us just not saying anything after. I gave her some backhanded comment about the boy from 4, and got on with breakfast. But, as I thought it over, I came to a realization. About Abilene's accident. Not accident. Murder. We weren't alone in that moment. He was there. I had seen him there, as she died in my arms. It had to be him. He must have poisoned Abilene. I need a reason. Her death wasn't accidental. It couldn't be left up to fate. If it was, surely she'd still be here with me. Still breathing. Still living. But no. Her strings were cut far too soon by another monster. She's still dead. And that couldn't be an accident. It was a murder.

I've done my best to block out the memories of that day. I thought that it hadn't worked, but with little prompting I came up with the face of a small boy, watching from a distance. He had clear, dark skin, even brown eyes and crazy black hair. The expression on his face was… fear? No, that was just for being caught. That was just because he had seen me. Even more than that, it was a smirk. It had to be. I can't make this thing up. He killed her. _He ripped _her away from me. I finally have something to pinpoint all this anger on, all this frustration and mourning could be attested to a single person. A single kill.

All I want to know is why. Actually, that's not all I want. I want vengeance. I _need _it. A new spirit inside me, the anger and blood rising to the surface. If I don't let this out soon, I think I might die. So he has to.

**Dawn Night, D10F**

I swear I'm being followed. Not just by cameras either, I've gotten used to those invasive eyes on me. No, it feels like someone inside the arena is watching me. Following me. Sure, what I'm feeling could be chalked up to paranoia. I wasn't expecting it last time, and look what happened to Jovanni. But for the moment, I need to push him out of my mind. I need to focus on me, someone still alive and in the game. The good news is, paranoia never got anyone killed. Even still, I take out my knife, brandishing it out in front of me as I walk. Just in case.

I walk through the woods carefully, not making a sound even as the dead leaves crunch beneath my feet. Making a point of avoiding the dark spaces where the sun didn't shine. Except that no sun was to be seen. Meaning if anyone was watching me, we were both at a disadvantage, distinctly in the dark. I'm both figuratively and literally in the dark at the moment. It's not a good feeling. All I can do right now is hope whoever, if anyone, is following me they don't have good eyes.

Every rustle of leaves or the breaking twigs threatened an enemy. An animal? A competitor? I had made the mistake of leaving my tree earlier this morning, and now I'm too far from the sturdy tree and the ones surrounding it to find my way back to it. All the trees I can see around here are small and brittle, all of them unable to hold my weight, little as it was. Another branch broke behind me, and I spun to see what had caused it. Nothing. With a bit of investigating, I found the little rabbit who had caused the noise, sprinting away from me on all fours. The breath I let out afterwards was loud and filled with relief. Not a threat.

My skin is crawling with heat, cold sweat dripping down my forehead and back. If my shirt wasn't so completely destroyed, I would've taken off my jacket. All the same, I did have the sleeves rolled up past my elbows. I push hair out of my face for the millionth time, only for it to fall back the moment I pull back my hand. I'll have to rebraid it soon.

It's as I take out the braid that I nearly trip and end up face first in a pile of stray rocks. Luckily, I managed to catch myself on a nearby tree. I swear, looking down to see the laces on my right boot undone and loose. The lace itself was frayed and looked about a hundred years old. Of course. Just my luck.

As I bend down, my eyes glancing all around. Laying out the knife so that handle is just an inch from my hand, I begin to retie the knot. The leather of the boot has seen better days. This close to it, I see the leather around the tip is particularly distressed. Scuffed and worn down by the mere week I've spent in them. The stench isn't all that pleasant either.

The commotion that comes from behind me is loud. A violent noise that grated against my ears. Turning around and brandishing the knife in the same instance, I turn to see what had caused it. What I saw was a small boy with dark skin and wild black hair sprinting away. It was short on the sides, and longer in the middle. I just watched, dumb-founded, as he made a mad dash for the trees.

At least I knew I wasn't imagining it. I _had _felt someone watching me. I wasn't going crazy. That's a definite positive. But now I'm left with what I should do. Follow him? Chase him down and slit his miserable throat? He made the decision for me, getting so far away that there was no way I could follow.

So I settled back down, finishing up with my shoelace. As long as he didn't try to end my life, I had no reason to end his. When I was done, I took the long laces and tucked them into the boot, as to not trip over them again. Just to be safe, I did the same to the other boot., matching it to the other boot.

I walked away as soon as I was done, the opposite direction of the boy I had a near run-in with. I doubt I'll ever see him again. All the better for me.

**Lillith Sparks, D6F**

I heard the voices first. One low and growling. The second was slightly higher, but still raspy.

"What are you doing?" it's the higher voice. The rustle of leaves and the pounding of feet. They aren't very stealthy, are they?

"I need to find him."

"Yeah, okay. And who is _him_, again?" Silence answers the higher voice. The heavy feet make their way closer and closer. They're way too close. They feel just behind me. The voices seem to bounce around, one feels like it's coming from behind me, the other from my left and slightly ahead of me. The two voices had to belong to people, and those people had to be together, but where? That's when I heard the third voice. Right behind me.

"_Hello, dear." His hand is cold on my arm, clammy and slick with sweat. It pulled me inside, through the door and into another universe. Another hand covers my mouth, quenching the screams coming from my mouth. I bit his hand, but that just makes him pull me harder. _

No. Not again. The voices are back, the episodes. _He's _back. I tell myself over and over again where I am, who I am, what's happening. Grounding myself in this situation. It's only slighter better, the danger less prevalent at the current moment then back then, "I'm Lillith Sparks. I'm from District 6. I have two older brothers, who would do anything for me. I'm in the hunger games. I'm-"

"Did you hear that?" The lower voice again.

"No. What is ithear what?" the second voice was cold and sarcastic, and I could imagine a cruel expression along with it.

"The voice. I-"  
"Are you serious? Of course I heard it. It came from over here." even closer. I spot the girl first. Slightly shorter than the boy, she stands with more control and grace in every movement. The way she moves is almost beautiful. Until she takes out two swords. The scrap of metal along the scabbard threatening my mere existence. If she finds me, she'll kill me. Absolutely.

I can't move fast enough. If I stand here out in the open they'll see me. In the split second I have, I dart around the wide trunk of a dead tree. The bark peeled off in chunks, scattered in the ground. I press into myself and the tree. The hilt of the knife digs into my side. I'm too loud as I take it out. I freeze, clenching it in both fists, up against my chest. I don't so much as breathe. They need to get out of here. Or I do.

_The monster's right behind me. His hot breath in my ear, hands on my shoulders. Then he's ripping at my hair. At my clothes. I'm being attacked by my own senses, panic turning my brain to mush. I can't do this anymore. I need this to stop. _

"_You're mine," a snake in my ear, "now, and forever." _

The voice doesn't fade, even as I try to keep myself here. In this moment. The one where two enemies are on the verge of discovering me. I don't know which reality is worse. My eyes squeeze out tears, my hands are slick with sweat. I'll drop the knife soon if I'm not careful.

"I don't see anything!" the first voice, the boy, calls out. He's too close. It feels like the only thing separating us is the tree. Big as it is, it can't cover me forever. I need to do something. I get into a wide stance, switching the knife to my right hand. If either one of them comes over to this side, they'll die. I know how to use a knife, I do. I'll kill them. If my hand stops shaking anytime soon, maybe I'll actually do it.

"_This won't hurt at all, dear." that's when he pulls out the knife. _

The wound in my arm is bleeding. The thick red blood drips down my forearm. The careless letters carved into my arm stinging.

No. no I'm seeing things. I have to be. That was ages ago. I close my eyes, looking away from the wet, sticky blood dripping down my arm, when I look back, I'm for once glad to see the pale whit lines. MINE. yeah right. I still have the image of the bullet lodged in his brain seared into my eyes. I see it almost as often as that dark room. The knife slips from my hand.

It's dull thud against the bushes stops my heart. I can't grab it.

"That came from over there." further away, the girl with the scarred face spoke as she walked, the tailend of her statement louder than the first part. I need to act now. With a quick look around, the only possible option is the tree, just like this one, just a few yards ahead of me. Quietly, I hurry to the tree. It's only when I'm safely behind it that I realize I forgot the knife. I'm about to sneak back and get it, when I hear the crackle of dead leaves. I need to know what's going on. So, I sneak a small look around the tree. The two figures are bent down, kneeling beside the knife. The girl is holding it in one hand, looking it over.

"Where did this come from?" I can't help staring as the two make eye contact. I'm struck by the raised scars crossing the girls face. One of the many all over her face.

_Blood is in the air, dripping down my face and into my eyes. It's I'm choking on it. It's everywhere, "Lillith." his whisper is steely, caressing my cuts with his fingers, getting blood on them, under his nails. _

It's not real. It's not. The girl looks up, towards me. I whip back around the tree to safety so fast I crack my head against the tree. I silently curse myself and the stupid tree out, using every curse I've learned over the years. I hold my head, just as my heart sinks. At least now I know I have a pulse. That's a positive. That is, until they find the water cooler. I can hear the water sloshing around. Then the crinkling packages of food. I really am an idiot.

"Would you look at that. Someone left us their rations. How sweet. I'm touched." the girl again. This is awful. I can't believe I was so stupid to just leave everthing out in the open. More than that, I have to listen to their taunts, and they don't even know I'm here. And yet they still patronize me. I have to cover my mouth to stop the scream from coming out of my mouth.

"_You're mine." _

I need this to stop.

"_... mine." _

I barely hear them as they pack up my stuff -_my _stuff- and walk away.

"_Mine." _

I don't move, even hours after the pair left. I'm pretty sure I looked completely comatose. I felt asleep, even as I relived that night a dozen times over. The long hours of the day were spent being dunked into that memory. When the episodes are over, I have maybe a minute of relief before being dragged down again.

Over and over again. Painful tears get out. I cry until I can't anymore. It leaves me dry heaving in the bushes, shaking and feeling like I've gone through hell and back multiple times. I think I might've. I've been doing so good over the past week. The Hunger Games actually helping me get past that. But now? I was triggered all over again. I feel delirious, like I'm hallucinating.

"_You're mine." _his words sing in my ear. "_Stay with me." he'll kill me soon. I know he will, "don't let them take me away." _the thick smell of blood suffocating me. Even if it isn't really there, it feels real. It feels so real. Too real.

They took everything I had. My knife, my food. The only safety I had in here. I have nothing. I have to figure something out. Later. Right now I need to calm down.

**Drake Ru, D5M**

Another close brush with death. Another near escape. That's all this game is at this point. Just getting as close to death as possible without actually finding yourself caught up in it. All things considered, I think I'm doing pretty good. The worst I've got so far is just watching a girl die in this Redhead's arms. She was from district 11. A pretty name, as far as I could remember. Abilene. It was kind of musical. Just thinking about that moment again makes the panic flood back. But it's okay. It's all okay. I've stared death in the face about a dozen times already, and I've only been in here a week.

At the same time, I can't believe my own stupid, dumb luck. In the eye of a storm and still standing, the confidence boost I got from realizing that I was in the final 8, and still going strong.

I've finally started breathing normally again, but something feels off. Well, everything feels off. The hunger games. The people trying to murder me. The millions of cameras on me 24/7. Yeah, that just about covers it. I find another bush of the safe berries from yesterday. I eat as much as I can, grateful for any food I can get. I'll need more than berries if I want to actually survive in here, but for now it's leaps and bounds better than the nothing I had before.

So I eat. The berries are sweet, but after a while they taste bland. Not that I mind, food is food. Maybe if I keep saying that to myself I'll actually start believing it. I know I should be grateful and everything. Like, I know I'm still alive, and doing surprisingly well and all, but I still feel awful. But that's nothing new. I've kind of been going down this rabbit hole of paranoia and anger. I want to do nothing more than scream, but I keep my mouth shut. Not like I have anything to scream at anything. Besides, I doubt a small kid with tired eyes and a terrified expression can threaten people thousands of miles away. Stupid Capitolites.

They're who I'm really angry with. Not anyone in here. We're just a bunch of kids in the same situation. Sure, a few of those kids might be deftly trained in assassination and beating the shit out of people, but they're still kids all the same. No, it's the Capitol that I have an issue with. The entire reason I'm in here after all.

By the time I'm finished, not only am I sick of berries, but I am also distinctly frustrated. I just want to see Freddie again. That's all I want. My best friend. Also known as my only friend. I want to see Lin and Aarong, and Dad. I need them. I don't know if I can do this without them. And that's the exact reason I need to do this. To keep on fighting. For them. And by fighting, I mean avoiding physical contact with every other person in this wretched place. It's kept me pretty alive so far. The thing with Acer was a mistake, but he's dead now. So, no harm no foul. No, I can't even pretend that's true. Thinking about him twists my stomach, almost as much as thinking of that girl from 11 in the moment she died.

The canon shrieked in my ear, interrupting my thoughts. Someone probably fell off the edge. It's about the same time as when it nearly happened to me, if I'm remembering the sun's placement right. My heart goes out to them, truly. But that also means I'm now in the top six. What a time to be alive, I guess. More like, how am I still alive? Either way, I'm pretty okay with that. Now I just need to get to five. Then four. Then three. All until there's just me left.

"… and I can finally see my family again."

**Athena Lightes, D3F**

I didn't fully understand what was happening until the ground started to collapse underneath me. I was too slow to start running, so when I did it was probably too late to save myself. If i keep running, then maybe I'll actually survive this. I still don't know what this is, exactly. All I know is that if I stop, I'll die.

I'm so close to safety, I'm so close to the ground that isn't shaking. Just a little further. My brain is rattling around in my head as I continue to run, legs shaking with the rocks underneath me. That's the exact moment I tripped. The rubble sliding underneath me. Oh no. no, no, no. If I could, I'd be screaming bloody murder right now. Instead, it's a silent struggle as I try to stumble forward to safe land. If there is any.

The rocks under my legs go first, dropping away and leaving me dangling. I just manage to grab at the air as I should carene to my death. Except I'm not. I'm still here. It's my hands. I grabbed the ledge as I fell. My body banged against the rocks, and the force of it nearly knocked my grip loose. I'm only hanging on by one hand now. No. I'm not going out like this. I refuse to look down, if I do then I'll certainly give up any hope I currently have.

The skin on my palms is torn and bleeding. The open wounds sting like all hell, but what's worse is the tall figure waiting for me when I get up to standing again. With brown hair that hasn't seen a comb in over a week. Her eyes grey and darker than the overcast sky.

I'm not being caught off guard again, not like yesterday. This time I'll fight back. Even if that means starting the fight. I pull out the knife, and do my best not to cringe away from it. It's now or never. I choose now.

**Mica Lee, D9F**

I saw it all happen from the base of the hill. I saw the ground collapse, the rubble left behind still settling. I also saw the girl, dropping right off the edge. . Just a rush between some trees and over the large rocks, and I was there. I have even less time here than I thought. But I need to make sure she actually fell. There hasn't been a canon, but surely the bottom of the ravine can't be that far down. When I get there, at first I don't see anything. Then I see the hands, just managing to keep the girl up. She hadn't fallen. Damn it.

Her small hands are tightly gripping the cliff face. I just watch as she scrambles to get up, not knowing what to do. Should I help her up? Kick her down? In the time I spent debating the two options, she got up all on her own. Her small frame was racked with shivers, and I don't know if it was from the chill or the fear. But she didn't look afraid. The girl just nearly avoided falling off a cliff to a painful death and she had a smirk on her face. It seems so out of place. From what I'd seen of her interviews, her reaping, and the training days, Athena Lightes was far more likely to start crying than smirking. Yet there she goes. No matter how small she is, I feel distinctly unnerved.

We were in this standoff for a long moment, almost an eternity. I was so focused on that I didn't realize she had taken out the knife until she was running at me with it, edge pointed directly between my eyes, until she was inches away from me. The hilt was a dark leather, clenched between ghostly fingers, and the blade was the length of my forearm. The edge was blunt, and the metal was covered in rust and dried blood. I just managed to avoid her, and she went careening behind me. I can't back up too far, or I'll go over the edge. That's exactly what she wants, an easy fight. Well, I'm not stupid. I'm not dying. Not today. She turns, still viciously brandishing the knife. She clearly doesn't know what she's doing, an amateur in close range fighting. As if I do. I always preferred using a gun. Far less personal. But not in here. The viewers want to see personal. So that's what they get.

I meet her in the middle of the large expanse between us. I'm much better, even if I have had only minimal experience with knives, and in a moment hers is ripped away. We both stop and watch as it goes down. I don't hear it hit the bottom. I look back at her face. The terror slowly inching in. Ah, I've broken her down. I get her with s good punch to her nose. The blood starts gushing immediately. Bright red, it's all over my fist. We're right beside the ravine. While she loses her balance and nearly slides over, I make my move in the split second she looked away.

I dig the fang deep into her chest. She didn't scream. She didn't do anything but writhe in pain, trying to pull it out of her shoulder. I did it first, and was fascinated by the vacant look in her eyes. They lost all life long before I kicked her over the edge.

I didn't hear the canon, I was probably too focused on running to the edge, and watching the small body land on the rocks. Her body was probably destroyed on impact. _Kill or be killed. _I shouldn't feel this upset. She had it coming. All the same, I stumble back from the edge, still holding the murder weapon in my hand. This should feel different than when I slit Ash's throat, I shouldn't care. I don't know this girl. Didn't. Death changes all the tenses. I didn't know about her, other than a name and a disability. Athena Lightes, the mute from District 3. The dead mute. _Kill or be killed. _

Kill or be killed. I much prefer being the killer.

There are six of us left. Six. I'm so close to seeing Rhyse again. I just need to keep fighting. I will. I will as long as I have to.

**Rusty Steele, D2F**

The ghost from yesterday is dead. Her canon was a few hours ago, her face appearing just now. It taints the dark night sky. Then it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. I'll never have to see her again. And thank god for that.

What I wasn't so happy about was the shoulder injury. It's been a few days since Mars inflicted the minor injury. At first, I thought it was nothing, but over the course of the day it seemed to get worse. Sore and stiff, I seemed to reopen the wound, bleeding out into the already blood-stained shirt. I'm surprised Winstead didn't notice the absolutely toxic smell. Too immersed in his own little fantasy.

I felt more like myself today, which was nice. More and more distractions from these… feelings. No, feelings isn't a good enough word for it. It's a weakness, deep inside me. I've tried to shove it down, but it's still there. It's awfully draining. Hard to keep up the smirk and banter. But I have me distractions to keep me sane. At least, more sane than said distractions. Then again, I suppose that isn't too hard.

Like Winstead, for instance. Yeah, he's a real… interesting distraction. He stinks of rust and blood, but I don't mention it. Even now, late into the night, he's still fuming. Muttering something about a murderer and how he'd pay. My first question was who _he_ was. I was apparently the murderer of what should have been the love of his life. I didn't mention it was probably sheer stupidity that got her killed. The narrative Winstead's creatives for himself was something like this:

Winstead and Abilene are in love (insert gag here). This alone should be their saving grace, and at least of them should come out of this alive. Probably Abilene, after Winstead bravely sacrificed himself for the love of his life. Except, that doesn't happen. Another -might I mention evil- tribute was determined to thwart them and their plans. So, as Winstead searches in the early morning a few days into the game, this evil tribute poisoned their completely fine water. So when Abilene drank some in the morning, she died almost immediately. Just in time for Winstead to come back and watch as his lover dies.

Yep. that's what he went with. That's the story he truly believes. At least now I have solid proof. He's definitely crazy. Sanity completely lost on him. He seems to go through phases. Sometimes, he's completely fine, and we can carry on banter and I can feel more at ease. Right now, it's worse than it was yesterday. All things considered, it's pretty funny. I feel like he's closer to a pet then an ally at this point, but who doesn't love to have a great dane around every once in a while? The day I have to kill him will be a sad one. But I will. I'll have to.

He hasn't stopped moving since the idea popped into his head this morning. I humoured him, walking around. We covered so much of the woods, my legs were sore with overuse. I wasn't feeling any of the cold, which was nice. The temperature has been steadily dropping since morning, and it wasn't very warm to begin with. The sun hadn't been seen all day either. But I'm warm, wearing a fleece lined jacket I found in the cornucopia. Perfectly content. Or as content as one can be while their prey is still evading them. Oh well, I'm in no hurry. I have all the time in the world. Everyone else however…

Well, most of them have no clue what's coming for them. Blissful ignorance, if I ever saw it.

**Rhyse Lee, District 9**

The Peacekeepers searched the entire district for someone to go on air and talk about Mica. miraculously, they didn't find me. No, it's not a miracle, it's Mica. I've done everything she's told me since she left. Since she left, I closed all the windows and triple bolted every door.

Instead of anyone who actually cares about Mica, they found our father. His eyes were bloodshot and red. He staggered onto the stage, laughing raucously. Obviously drunk. Once a drunk always a drunk, I guess. Glad to know he hasn't changed since we ran away. He barely talks. I had to turn off the screen, I couldn't watch him anymore than I had to. I don't want to think about him, about what he put both Mica and I through.

Her friend has come by a few times since she left. Charon. He mostly dropping off food or water, other times just sitting down beside me to talk long into the night. It was nice. No one could replace Mica, but he was there for me. I picture my father is saying something about how completely high he is, right before nose diving off the stage. The image makes me smile, before I remember how his fists broke my skin and all the humor was lost. It was only one night, but I knew he hit Mica on multiple occasions. The first and only time he did was the night Mica whisked us both to safety. One of the thousand reasons I need her.

I want her to come home, be safe. Be with me. It's been too long already. Nearly a fortnight has passed since I said goodbye. At least I still get to see her. Yeah, the moment she slit the throat of that guy from 12 will forever be plastered in my mind. It's seared into my retinas. His blood on her hands. Her knife.

That rabid mutt a few days ago scared me nearly half to death. Charon was with me at that point. We both watched. He seemed almost as relieved as I was. The two were supposedly really close. At least that what he told me.

The silence sudden silence is disturbed by the creak of the window, the pane sliding to make way for the only person that ever comes around here anymore.

"Hey, kid," I looked over to see Charon, climbing through the window. His hair is nearly the same shade as Mica, and I watch as he pushes it out of his eyes. He settles in on the couch beside me. I can barely see him in the dark, ut I feel the sofa shift under both of us as he settles in.

"How are you?" he asks, voice calm and seemingly bored.

"The same as yesterday," I sigh. And the day before that, the one before that. Ever since we ran away. I haven't left this stupid house in what feels like years. Before Mica left, I would occasionally go out with her. See people in the square as we walked together, hand in hand. But since she volunteered, not only do I feel unsafe going outside, but Charon wouldn't let me even if I wanted to. Except that now I want to. I'm sick of this ghost house, and begin careful to be silent during the day, to keep all the lights off at all hours. Always having to be careful that no one knows I'm here. I'm losing my mind here.

But instead of bringing it up, or maybe before I could, Charon asked if I saw the interview yet. He didn't need to clarify. I knew what he was talking about,

"I saw the first bit." I answer, looking away from the screen.

He was laughing to himself, "oh, no. you need to see all of it."

I tried to refuse, but he insisted. In another moment, it was on, and the program picked up where I left off. With Father, already drunk and slurring his words, looking blearily at Rexa Corsan. I watched in silent horror for a moment, my heart beating up in my throat at just the sight of him. His beady, glazed eyes aren't focusing on anything. With each question from the woman, his answer takes an eternity to come, usually incoherent and mumbled under his breath.

As much as I hate seeing him on screen, it was nice to have Charon beside me. He laughed at every dumb thing he said, doing imitations, and making comments to relieve the anxiety he must see clearly written on my face. The highlight of the night was when Charon commented on how he's probably going to throw up on Rexa Corsan. We actually made a bet one that last one. I won, not to brag or anything. He did not throw up on her. He did throw up beside her. I argued my point, and he eventually admitted defeat, handing over a small orange. It was delicious, and I made a point of rubbing it in his face.

We spent the rest of the night playing back the interview. It got to the point where I was crying with laughter, more than once. He did too. For once, I could just laugh.

* * *

**Eulogies **

The fallen of Day 9

**7: **Athena Lightes, D3F (1 Kill)

Stabbed by Mica, fell off a cliff

She was my little baby. I thought of this character long before I started writing TBITW, just the general backstory and personality, and I'd like to think I wrote her well. I think everyone knew she wouldn't survive. I mean, she was my character, it wouldn't be fair to any of you if she was the victor. Especially considering how damaged she was. Not even in a character development sense, but she was just going down a dark path. I knew it would happen. And it's kind of sad. The moment she felt confident in herself, she literally shut down and then proceeds to be shoved off a cliff and die. Either way, I was happy with her arc and how it ended. Both my babies are now dead. Damn, that's kind of sad. Not really, I still have 6 more characters left to traumatize and kill. So fun, I can't wait.


	36. Chapter 36- Day 10

**Hi... It's been a while. I am so sorry. It's been a pretty rough patch in my life, and I could barely handle my own life let alone the lives of all these character, but you don't need excuses. Well, I'm sorry all the same. TBITW really close to the end, but I just couldn't wrap my mind around any of it. So, took a break. It lasted a little longer than I had hoped, but it wasn't fair to anyone for me to write at my worst. Anyways, I'm back, and want to start updating more frequently, no guarantee though. My life has been insanely busy for the past little while. This is also quite a bit shorter than anything else I've written so far, but progress is progress, right?**

**Chapter 36- Day 10**

**Mica Lee, D9F: **

Since I killed Athena Lightes from 3, I haven't stopped moving. Getting as far away from the edge of the arena as I can, I got to the clearing where the cornucopia stood abandoned. Sure, the dried blood all over the grass gathered gnats, and certain areas of grass were torn up and covered in mud and strewn earth, but far as I was concerned it was like a sanctuary.

I was careful as I stepped out of the woods, looking around to see if I had missed any enemies. I hadn't. In the mouth of the cornucopia stands a tall bare framed metal table. Items lay strewn all over the top. The chaos spoke measures of what had happened since the feast.

Why would anyone leave this? It is exactly what you need to survive the hunger games. It has food, water, weapons. It's my oasis. I heard the crunch of plastic and sleuthing else beneath my feet. It's a small package of crackers. They were crushed into small, jagged pieces under my boot. In one movement, I have the bag in my hands and ripped open. They were coated in salt, and it burned the inside of my mouth and throat as it went down. A jug of water lay on its side right beside it. The panem seal was melted into the plastic side. A few empty canteens were inside the cornucopia, and I managed to pour myself a bottle-full. The water was warm and utterly disgusting, but at least it was clean. So, I sit down on the upturned soil, resting against the cornucopia. The sun is beating down on my head and radiating off the metal at my back. It stings but the pain is kind of soothing.

I gave myself only an hour or so to relax. Then, it was time to work. If I was going to stay here, I'd need to set up some precautions. Someone else might do exactly what I did and that's why I had to get to work. I spent the rest of the day setting up traps all around the clearing. Some basic and not-so-basic snares that were strong enough to hold any game, human or otherwise. After a few more hours, and a lot more sweat, I was done. I reapplied the balm once more to my arm. The wound was practically gone now. That's when I remember the river. Of course. I had followed it for a reason. After rushing back to the cornucopia and finding a canteen, return to the mouth of the stream and carefully fill it.

Whoever left here was a real idiot. Because I know someone had been back here, a lot of the supplies were missing, a rotten apple sitting near my foot. I squash it beneath my boot. The sound is more of a gush than the crunch of an apple. It's been at least 2 days since it was left. 2 days. I should be fine here. At least, for a little while.

"I could get used to this."

**Drake Ru, D5M:**

It never crossed my mind that there would be alliances this late in the game. Yet, I heard two distinct voices cross the path beside me. They were in pleasant conversation, if not so much about peasant things. But one thing is sure, they won't be killing each other anytime soon. Meaning they were out to kill me.

Sure, not me in particular, but the general idea of me. The other tributes. Well, they'll have to catch me first. And I'm a pretty fast runner.

"Who do you think we'll find?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll kill them."

"So sure, are we?"

Back and forth they went. I was too scared to move, fearing that any shifting of my weight would break a branch. Just the crunch of the ground beneath me could alert these killers to their prey. I just need to calm down. I need to calm down. But my heart won't let me. I feel it pounding in my throat. The thrilling feeling of adrenaline rushing through my body. It's just their words, and the tree at my back and the pounding of my heart. Nothing else. They suddenly go silent. The pounding of their feet leading away.

I wait until it seems safe. Turning around, I'm stopped dead in my tracks by the looming figure in front of me. A strong hand takes a death grip on my throat.

"See," I see a girl step in around the other, her dull red hair sparkling in the sun, "I told you someone was watching us."

"It's you." His voice is a wicked hiss in my ear, "it was your fault."

I would've asked what he meant, but his hand was currently crushing my windpipe. My vision is going fuzzy around the edges, the girl in the background disappearing. _So, this is how I die_.

**Winstead Dale, D11M: **

I could just end his miserable life right now. Snap Drake Ru's neck and be done with it. But he doesn't get off that easily. Not after Abilene. She's dead. Dying. In my arms again. Poisoned. By this boy I have weak as a rag doll. How could someone so powerless do something so evil? Murder. _How can I?_ No. this is right. I am right. All for Abilene.

His fingers try to pry me off him, but they're weak as the rest of him. No match for the blazing anger heating to my core. His blood will stain the ground red. I swear it. He's sputtering now. Finally, he gets out what he's been trying to say.

"What do you want?" he can barely breathe. Good.

The words are pleasant, "You're death. For Abilene."

"Who?" He's cut off by his own shrieking. It might have something to do with the fact that I just broke his nose. His body hits the ground hard and fast.

I like it. He's scrambling on the ground, trying to get to his feet. But I can't relent, not now. I won't. So I keep hitting him. Nasty punches landing wherever I can land them. My kicks become stronger the longer this goes on. I love this feeling rushing through me, even as I split my knuckles on his jaw. The pain is the best part. His as well as mine. The struggle is over in a matter of minutes. But I didn't stop until the canon cut me off. I froze, looking down to see the bloodied body underneath me. He had curled up into himself, protecting his body. I suppose it was the kick to the head that finally finished him off. Those unseeing eyes gaze out into world, seeing everything and nothing at all. I have avenged Abilene. Cut another like short to make up for hers unceremoniously cut all too short. So why do I still feel so empty?

"Wow, I'm impressed. Turns out lover-boy is a monster after all. Who would have thought it?" Rusty looked over the body, "You did a real number on the poor guy, too. Broke his nose, both arms, his leg, and at least two of his ribs. Scraped him up pretty bad too. Must have done your knuckles just as bad." She suddenly grabbed my hands, turning them up. She looked at the cuts all over my knuckles. From his cheekbone and the blunt force applied with every wicked blow.

"It's just that easy." The moment I said it, she froze. She went completely stiff. Dead in the eyes. She spun on her heel, swiftly walking away from me and the body on the ground.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you!" She stops, turning back to me. She has a blade pressed to my throat in an instance.

"Follow me, and I swear to God I'll slit your miserable throat." So I wait.

"Will you be back?"

"Maybe." She disappears into the brush. I had done it. I had broken Amber Steele. How?

…

She was back. A few hours later, just as the sun began to set. By then the fire in my stomach had cooled. She didn't speak, just sat down and turned away from me. It wasn't for the next five minutes that I realized how much it hurt me. What had I done to deserve this? Why do I care about what Rusty Steele thinks of me? Why should I? I don't have an answer. I need an answer.

**Dawn Night, D10F: **

I heard the snap of a branch behind me. Whipping around I saw nothing in the dark, even with the warm light from the fire shining all around me. It wasn't even that hard, considering the practice I got in training. Even. By the time I got it lit I had worked up a heavy sweat. Yes, it was stupid, you should never light a fire in the arena -it's a literal homing beacon- but I don't care. In fact, I was kind of hoping someone would come. Get one step closer to seeing district 10 again. To seeing Sue. But that was an hour ago. Now, I feel my palms get all sweaty and a stomach twisting up with nerves. I might throw up. Not like I've eaten anything to throw up, but still.

I try to calm down, but my heart won't let me. All the same, I clench my knife in a tight fist. I hope no one on the tv sees how shaky my hands are. Wiping the sweat off along my thighs, I walk to the other side of the fire, trying to erase all fear from my voice.

"I- I can hear you!" It's a loud whisper, no one beyond the fire could hear it. But I'm sure someone did. Someone had to. I keep pacing, quiet and quick, circling the fire. They'll have to come out to play sometime.

"I know you're there. Do you want to finish this, or what?"

The arm reached around from behind me. The hand was small and fast, getting an iron grip on my wrist of the hand with the knife. I turn to it, trying to get my arm away and take a swing with the blade. I would've too, if the other hand hadn't directed the bladder right under my rib cage. Up and under. Genius. Murderous.

The pain was immediate, but I didn't understand until I looked down and saw the knife hilt-deep in my body. Mine. I was sent dripping to my knees, my stupid heart still trying to hold out. I don't have the strength to pull the knife out.

"I'm sorry," I look up to see the pale face of a girl flickering with emotions and the reflection of the fire. That was before I felt myself give out.

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

"_It's just that easy."_

Everything about that moment was uncannily similar to the last time I saw Kaz. That hard set of his eyes. The eerie calm of his smile. I hadn't seen Winstead or Kaz that calm ever. Until the day they would both die. For Kaz, it was years ago. For Winstead, it's today. Vengeance is a powerful tool. It drives you insane with want, but leaves you empty after you finally get it. He doesn't seem crazy now. He just seems sad.

I have to kill him. Simple as that. Sure, we've had some fun, but this is still a game. A game I intend on winning. Too bad me winning means Winstead loses. The only question is how I snuff out his little light. I could go the easy, predictable route, and take him out in combat. But I couldn't do that. No, I won't. I can do everything I put my mind to. A fight would only last as long as I saw fit. Then, the canon would boom, and I'd have more blood on my hands, and just like that Winstead Dale would be gone. Just another name on the list of deceased tributes.

But that feels a little… cruel. He's gone through enough already. Huh. Who would have ever thought? Me, with an ounce of humane sympathy. That's laughable, at best. Still, I'm not going to fight him, but I certainly can't keep him around. He's too much of a reminder. I don't want to see any more of _Kaz_ than what plagues me in the night. No, the time to act is now.

He sitting on the damp earth, turned away from me. I don't know what he's looking at, but it doesn't matter. The pliable grip between my fingers leads to the wicked edge of a six inch blade is comfortable. A pleasant reminder of who I am and what I want. This will all be over soon. Just the flick of my wrist and it'll all be over. This evil weakness taking root inside me will vanish right along with the body.

It seems as though he's trying to disappear. Sink right into the earth and never be seen again. I'll slit his throat. Right now. I would've too, if my own feet hadn't messed me up. I was cursing myself and him as I fumbled a step.

He jumped as I stumbled into his back, getting to standing. He looms over me. I was still in disbelief over what happened. I messed up. Me! Rusty Steele never messes. Yet, at a crucial moment, I practically tumbled over my target. My undoing was a rock, an inanimate object!

"You okay?" His voice is hoarse, and I clear my own throat making sure my own voice isn't as bad.

"Yeah, fine." I shrug, hiding the knife behind my back. At that moment I realized he had his hands were both gripping my shoulders. The touch was more reassuring than I would like to admit. I hate how gentle he can be. He killed someone today, yet they aren't cold and hard with hatred like the rest of him. Spots of blood dot his clothes and skin. Drake Ru's blood under his fingernails. It would repulse anyone, anyone but me that is.

I should kill him, right here, right now. We're close, so close I feel his hot breath on my face. He'd never see it coming. If I wanted to, I could kiss him right now. What would it feel like? Kissing him. Kissing anyone for that matter. The thought crossed my mind just as I found myself leaning into him. What am I doing? It doesn't matter. My eyes involuntarily close as our lips meet.

I've never understood the fascination with kissing and other non-verbal signs of affection. They've always felt needless. But this… well it's certainly un-necessary, but I don't know if I hate it. A part of me loves it. Another part of me is asking what's going on. It seems neither knows what's happening.

His hands are still on my shoulders, so I feel as they tense up, only to relax again. That was before he pushed me away. Maybe if I was in my right mind, I could have stopped this all before it got to this point. Before I feel too unnerved to look Winstead in the eyes. No, that's stupid. Crazy. I'm not scared of Winstead, of what he thinks about me. He should be scared of me.

"Rusty? I…" I finally met his eyes. I don't like the expression on his face, what I can see of it in the dark. What I do see if riddled with mortification, "What the hell!" Whatever. It was worth a shot. I still don't see the big deal. _Then why is my heart pounding?_ It's the adrenaline. _Then why is my vision going blurry? _Shut up. I'm telling my thoughts to shut up. I don't need to explain myself to _myself_.

"Get some sleep. I'll take first watch." I turn away, not letting him see the hurt on my face. No one gets to see me like this.

"Wait, Abilene!" His hand is tight on my wrist, pulling me back.

"Did you just call me _Abilene_. I-" I was about to press the issue, but then he was kissing me back. I should be angry, I should just kill him right now. Too bad the handle is already slipping from my fingertips. There goes my plan. _What plan?_

His hands are in my hair, body pressed against mine. My hands press into his shoulder. This doesn't feel real. It's not. It can't be. This is just a dream. I'm going to wake up at any moment.

Any. Moment.

But it doesn't come. So, I pull away. My head feels fuzzy. We're no longer connected, but I'm still just inches away from him.

"Why? What?" He stops, taking in heaving breaths. "What did we just do?" I can't answer. I don't know what the answer is. Instead, I slap him hard enough to send him sailing to the ground.

"That," I say, feeling myself go weak in the knees, "Is for calling me Abilene." I didn't even hit him that hard. But I like this better. I like being in control of this situation. Besides, I could have done a lot more damage. He could have done a lot more damage.

"You can make it up to me by taking first watch. I'm exhausted," and a liar. I don't sleep a wink all night. Especially after I heard the canon.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F: **

I finally did it. I killed someone. And I did it with their own knife. The girl's eyes are open wide, blankly staring into open space. One eye was darker than the night sky. The other paler than the fake moon projected into the sky. The eyes are eerie, haunting. Yet, I can't bring myself to close them. I did this, I should deal with the aftermath.

The knife is covered with her thick red blood, and I am currently trying to get rid of all of the blood in a nearby stream. in the cold water of the stream. My hands go in next, turning the water a rusty pink colour that churns my stomach. I got most of it off, yet I still feel it all over my hands. The smell lingers on my clothes. Rust, sweat and dirt.

I leave the body to be picked up in another few minutes, stumbling blindly in the dark. The panem anthem fills the air as the hovercraft appears, projecting the seal into the air. The face and district number following just about stops my heart. Drake. Drake Ru is dead, 'District 5' emblazoned underneath his face. He's dead, too. The only other chance I had of saving my family. If I couldn;t win, I would've wanted him to do it for me.

The second face appeared. The girl lying in a pool of her own blood at this very moment. She looks so lively in the picture. Aggressively staring down the camera, chalening it. Challenging me. Her knife is in my hands as District 10 fades away. Once again, I am left in darkness.

At least now I have a weapon. That;s better than nothing. Then again, a lot of things are better than nothing. Being safe at home, seeing my friends again, just going back to district 5. A lot of things are worse, too. Like being in a game of war, where the only prize is leaving with your life. Being held against your will, beaten and cut, where all you can do is sit there and take it. Being stared down by the person you just murdered.

Murder. I murdered someone, and I don't even know her name. Even so, the memories of tonight will stay burned into my memories, as long as I'm alive. Which, depending on the results of the next few days, might not be very long. All I need now is to know her name.

**Georgia Dale, District 11**

"Hey, Georgia," I look up from my trembling hands to see Barric, holding his hand out for me. I take it, and he helps me to my feet.

"What were you doing?" his voice wavers over the words. That's when I see how red his eyes are, and how blotchy his skin is. Crying again. I can hardly blame him. That was me a few days ago. But now… now, I don't know.

"Nothing," I give him my answer, squeezing his hand slightly to reassure him. That was as close to the truth as I felt like getting into at the moment. Every muscle in my body stood at attention, tensing so hard I was shaking all over. Barric didn't notice. He was too busy wiping away any remaining tears. My interview would be at any moment now. And I was very late. A Capitolite assistant found us quickly. I wanted nothing more than the wipe that stupid expression off of the man's face. But I didn't, following behind him, silent and grudging. We're led through a door to the area in the wings of the stage. Where we all stood a few days ago. But today, I go alone.

"Please welcome back, Georgia Dale!" I take a moment to recollect myself, sliding both clenched fists into my pockets. Doing my best to wipe and hostility off my face, I step out onto the stage. I'm more prepared for it this time, but it's no less jarring. The people all staring at me, the empty chair waiting for me. I can already feel myself breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Hello Rexa. it's nice to see you again." She's responsible for all of this. Well, maybe not her, but everything she stands for. It's Rexa Corsan and the people like her that put my brother in the hunger games. The reason my brother became a murderer. I despise that word. Murderer.

"Hello, hello," she's wearing a different dress today. A disgusting orange that matched her hair perfectly. I don't hear what else she says, just smiles and nods, trying not to cry. Or punch her in the face. Either way, I was on the verge of doing both. Possible at the same time.

Murderer. Monster. Hideous Capitolite. Grotesque…

Dear god, what's happening to me? I don't like it. I don't like rage. I can already feel myself dashing into melancholy sadness. That's when I have to get off the stage. I don't want the whole country to see me burst j to tears. This is all Winsteads doing. Except, I can't blame him. No, it's the capital that did this. These freaks that watch bloodsport for entertainment. That did this to me, to Winstead and Abilene.

The brother I knew is dead- he died right along with Abilene. I don't know who this boy is, but he isn't my Winstead. And it's because of _them_.

**Basically, everyone is screwed at this point. Alive or dead. I have the feeling some of you will hate me for what I wrote here, but others will love it. The joy of writing. Until next time.**

**Eulogies**

The fallen of day 10

**6: **Drake Ru, D5M (0 kills)

Killed by Winstead Dale

I really liked Drake. He was an underdog, and just a really sweet character. But he just wasn't meant to be in the finale. I'm really sorry. At first I really did think he had a chance, but he wasn't the best. Plus, a psychopath was kind of after him so… yeah, no escaping that.

**5: **Dawn Night (1 kill)

Killed by Lillith Sparks

She was my second choice for victor. She was first for a while, but I felt "winning for love" was a little cliche. So she died. This was probably one of the sadder -for me at least- deaths over the course of this fic, and I really don't want to see her go, but it was her time. So unfortunately, I must say goodbye.

**Tributes remaining: **

Rusty Steele (D2F), Lillith Sparks (D5F), Mica Lee (D9F), Winstead Dale (D11M)


	37. Chapter 37- Day 11

**Chapter 37- Day 11**

**Rusty Steele, D2F:**

I'm kissing him again. His mouth his hard and his body is tense. His hands are pressed into my hair, as his mouth moves to my neck. Finally, a chance to breathe. This entire thing is a waste of time, but that doesn't mean I plan on stopping anytime soon. I like kissing. Like it more than trying to talk to him, than trying to explain what happened to me yesterday. All around a pleasant distraction.

He was the first to pull back, "we should probably go back to the cornucopia," he was out of breath, whispering in my ear. I nod, pushing him off of me and getting to my feet. My entire body feels heavy with lack of sleep. But that doesn't hinder our path in any way. We were following one of the many small rivers leading back to the cornucopia.

We kept our distance, staying far from each other. He looked dead inside, big dark circles under his eyes. I probably don't look much better. This has been a long two weeks.

Finally, we got back. No one was there. Shame, but you can't always get lucky. I can't stop moving, fidgeting and pacing. I watch Winstead as I do. And I got to thinking, something dangerous for everyone.

I couldn't kill him, I tried last night and where did it get me? Making out with someone else's boyfriend. Granted, his girlfriend is dead and could hardly complain, but he still thought of her. Still loved her. I've never truly loved anyone, not in a romantic sense at least. I knew what I had to do. What he had to do

If I couldn't kill him, I could only hope someone else could, "You need to leave."

It's a statement. A simple fact. One he clearly didn't understand, "what?"

"You have to get out of here. Now," The hurt in his eyes, his real, sane human eyes, spoke measures to me. My chest was tight, and I can't seem to figure out why.

"Why?" His voice cracked.

"Because I told you to."

We stood there, facing off against each other. He doesn't move, "don't make me kill you," I whisper.

Finally, he steps away, "Fine," his voice is too hard, too cold. I've taught him too well, "whatever. There's only four of us anyway, right?" I nod, watching his back until he's out of sight. I drop to the ground as soon as he's gone. I can't do this anymore. Why did Winstead have to make this so complicated?

Looming down, I see what had been an apple crushed into the grass, right beside it was a patch of dead grass. The only grass. Then I smelled the pure chemical scent in the air. The poisoned stream. Then it all clicked. Someone had been here. I look up just as I heard Winstead's shrill scream. He sounded like a scared little girl. The sound chilled me to my core.

As much as I didn't want to, I had to follow the sound. What I saw was Winstead, strung up by the ankle, struggling to break free as a girl approaches, a gleaming knife held out in front of the figure. Dammit. Why can't I let him die?

With precision I didn't know I had, I sent a knife flying, severing the rope. Winstead crashes to the ground in a grunt of pain. The girl turns to me. Good, I've been itching for a fight. I take out my blades, getting ready. She doesn't even have actual weapons, her "knives" are two fangs probably cut from the jaw of some dead creature within the arena itself. I feel more comfortable with two blades in my hands than with any boy. Especially Winstead Dale.

**Mica Lee, D9F:**

It seems like this won't be as easy as I thought. Oh well, there's still two people here. I could just kill them both. I've done it before. Just twice more and I'll be that much closer to going home. To Rhyse, the only reason I have to go home at all.

I took out another fang, ready to fight. Her smile was devilish as she took out her own blades. Two long daggers. They make my fangs look like toys. No. I can't be intimidated. I'll just psych myself out.

"It's just you and me, 9." Her voice is cold, taunting like her smile. And I attack. She side steps my swing blade, sticking out a foot. I stumble over it, regaining my balance. I turn, waiting for her to make the next move. She doesn't. We just circle each other for a moment. That's when I realized she was waiting for her partner to get himself untangled from my trap. I can't wait. So, I attack again. I can't falter.

It was a long and brutal battle. She was wicked fast and deadly, but so was I. But I was bigger, taller. That turned out to be a disadvantage. I've never faced anyone as fast as her. We would shuffle back and forth, feigning blows. Then I would attack, or she would, before retreating. I was dripping in sweat, making the blade slippery and hard of breath. She looked like she could go on like this for hours.

Just then, she charged at me, slicing with one blade low, going high with the other. She nicked me, a long deep gash stinging with sweat. I was so distracted she was able to flip me to the ground, blood dripping from the gash in my face and into my eyes. A well placed kick to her stomach sent her backwards. I worked to catch my breath.

I stood up, ready to finish her off, when I felt the blade enter my body. A sword had run me through from the back, it's tip covered in blood pointing out of my stomach. It's my blood. The pain is unimaginable, and it's all I can do to drop to the ground, writhing in pain. It hurts even worse going out. I'll bleed out now. Drop dead right here. There's nothing more I can do. For the first, and last time, I let myself cry. _Rhyse. _I can't do it. I'll never see him again. I'll never save him.

In one last ditch attempt I stabbed my last fang deep into the girls leg, she was so distracted by the boy who had just ran me through she didn't see it coming. Everything faded out, the last thing I heard was the girls grunt of pain. She'll die soon enough. We all get our turn, after all.

**Winstead Dale, D11M:**

_Boom. _

The first girl was on the ground, tossed to the side and forgotten. She was already dead, so I don't think she minded much. Rusty was hurt too, sitting up against a tree, hands staunching a wound on her leg. It was wide, the blade cleaning went in and out. But she was bleeding heavily, promptly covering both hands and her leg. She was laughing to herself, the sound weak and painful to hear.

"Rusty, what happened?"

"I was distracted. She got a lucky hit," her face contorted in pain.

"But it's okay, right? You'll get better?" I needed an answer. The right answer. But she shook her head and my heart dropped.

"The fang, it was poisoned. And it popped a vein. I'll be dead as soon as it reaches my heart," she's always had this manic energy. But now she was disturbingly calm.

"I'm sorry," I say, I don't know what else to do.

"You should be. I leave you alone for five minutes and you go and almost get yourself killed. If I hadn't saved your miserable ass you'd be dead right now." Now I'm laughing, just as sad as her own pitiful sound.

"But you just got yourself killed. What did that do for anyone?"

"I'm saving your stupid life. I thought you'd be more grateful." She suddenly writhed in pain, curling away from me. Another person I care about is going to die, and I can't do anything about it.

I lean in, trying to kiss her one last time, but she pushes me away.

"No. That's not what you want. You don't care about me, not really. It's what they want. All I've done in this stupid game is exactly what they want," she's defiant and foolishly brave, even as she dies.

"What _who _wants?"

She exasperated now, "the Capitol. The game makers. Everyone else. They turned my brother into a pawn, and then they did the exact same thing to me Well, I'm not a pawn in this chess game anymore." She sits up more, putting both blood stained hands on my shoulders.

"You this isn't you, right? This evil, mean, murderous person I've brought out? You can't."

"No. Of course I'm not. I'm not like this because of you. None of this is your fault."

She laughs, again, loud and hard, "Of course it is. All of this is my fault. Winstead, I was going to kill you. Last night. I had to. So you should hate me, you should hate me more than who you think killed Abilene." I probably picked up on the least important part of that statement, but I had to mention it.

"That's the first time I've heard you call her Abilene."

"No. No, I didn't," I finally heard the rest of it.

This entire situation feels off, "Well, why didn't you kill me?"

She waits a moment before answering, "Because you remind me of me," she looks up at me, suddenly taking both my hands, "promise me you'll win? I'm just so sick of losing the people I care about. First Kaz, and now you."

I don't ask who Kaz is. It seems the moment I take answering sounds like doubt to her, because she adds, "Not for me. Do it for Abilene."

I nod, "I will. I'll try."

She smiles, "thank you," she coughed, turning away from me. I saw blood spatter the ground, the leaves around her. She turns to back to my one last time before I saw the light leave her eyes. No. I can't find her pulse. Not on her wrist. Not on either wrist. _Boom._ No.

"No. No! Don't leave me alone." Everyone is leaving me alone.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F:**

The second cannon goes about five minutes after the first. I stupidly hope for another one, but I'm not that lucky. How many is that now? Twenty-two dead? Yes. I'm one of the last two. I can't believe my luck. My own stupid, dumb luck. I might go home. I just have one more person to go through. Then I'll get to see my parents, Patrick and Pete. Brendon, Hayley and Jamie. Everyone. A little blood is worth that, right?

The two faces in the sky are District 2 and 9 girls. The first belonged to the girl who gave me that episode two days ago. Her partner is the only thing left between me and district six.

The rocks underneath my feet seemed to be vibrating, the ground shaking. The crumbling of earth and ground starts all at once. I panicked before realizing I was nowhere near the edge. It didn't get any better when the edges of this little planet fell away. Dropping off into a sheer cliff, getting closer and closer to me. I turn away from the cacophony of noise and destruction.

I keep running as long as I can, even after the avalanche ended. I was nearing the cornucopia now, and I saw a shadowy figure standing there. The other tribute. The shadows in the area I stood were far too deep for him to see, so I was fine just watching him. Then he turned my direction. He was too far away to hear me, but I held myself breath anyway. Inching slowly across to the woods, where I would have more protection. As soon as I got to the trees, I kept going. I watched the figure the whole time. It seemed like he was turned away from me. Just like that he turned and walked to the other side of the cornucopia. So, I took a risk. I darted in, grabbing the first knife I came across. It glinted in the moonlight.

I sit back, waiting. Waiting. Waiting for him to fall asleep. He doesn't. So neither do I. I'm hardly strong enough to take him on now, so I have to wait.

* * *

**Eulogies**

The fallen of Day 12

**4: **Mica Lee, D9F (2 kills)

Killed by Winstead Dale

You had your run. She was one of my favourites. Who am I kidding? I loved all of them. But Mica has a special place in my heart. Unlike any other character, she was comfortable with herself and knew what she had to do. I just don't know what else to say. I really cared about her, had a lot of fun writing from her perspective and just figuring her out.

**3: **Rusty Steele, D2F (3 kills)

Killed by Mica Lee

She was created by one of my closest friends. That's a lot of pressure. I've always hated the idea of people close to me reading my work, but I think I did alright with Rusty. To say the least, I'm happy with how Rusty Steele. I knew she couldn't win, she was the only career left, just killing of allies left and right, she was simply just too strong and an obvious choice for victory. I had to break her down to see what made her tick. She's not just a cold-blooded killer. She has issues too. I miss her already, even as I'm writing this. You had a good run, Rusty, but in the end you just weren't up to par. Goodbye and thank you.

* * *

**Tributes remaining: **

Lillith Sparks (D5F), Winstead Dale (D11M)


	38. Chapter 38- Day 12

**So here we are, the climax of the Hunger Games. We have one last day in the arena with our final two. Lillith and Winstead. Place your bets now folks, some serious stuff is about to go down.**

* * *

**Chapter 38- Day 12**

**Winstead Dale, D11M**

I didn't sleep a wink during the night. I didn't do anything at all. I keep seeing Abilene die, then Rusty. Then I regret thinking about either of them. I cared about Rusty, but I loved Abilene. I don't know anything anymore, except that they're both dead. Both died with me right beside them, unable to do anything at all. I'm helpless. Hopeless. I can't do this anymore. But I'm so close. So why am I haunted by everything?

Why do I see blood everywhere I turn? Their voices whispered in my ears. I definitely need to get some sleep. I can feel myself slipping in and out of mania. Crazy states. I hate these stupid games. I hate everything they've done to me, what they've done to Abilene. If these games never existed, I would be back at home with Abilene. We would still be happy, and I never would have killed anyone. I've killed people in here. Sequoia Carsyn. Drake Ru. Mica Lee. They are just three names out of twenty-two.

I can still the rusty scent of blood in the air. Rusty. Why does everything have to come back to her? She's dead. We're both dead. I _feel _dead, at least. Dead inside. I'm sure I don't look much better. I probably look like a zombie. Not that I care. I don't care about anything anymore. Not anything that really matters at least.

Rusty. Abilene. I just have to get through the day, for them and for my family. I can only imagine how my parents would react to finding that the lost Abilene and me. But they already have lost me. I don't know who I've become.

"_Because you remind me of me."_

Is that who I want to be? Like Rusty Steele, a sociopath with murderistic tendencies. No.

Of course not. That's not who I want to be. I don't think it's what anyone wants for me either. So why am I so awful? I'm stuck in my own head as the world turns on its head. Spinning at violent speeds. My legs are wobbling beneath me. What are the gamemakers doing to me now?

**Lillith Sparks, D5F**

The day begins in a cold sweat. A nightmare. I don't remember much more than the screaming… and the blood. And okay, I remember every awful detail. The dark room, the man and the knife. All the scars. _Mine. Mine. Mine! _ I'm just surprised that the gamemakers allowed me to sleep at all. I'm still groggy. AsleepWhat I saw was a vine, coiled tightly around my upper arm. It was dragging me to the edge. I realized that the moment I heard the rocks go off the edge. I hadn't been this close to the edge last night.

Thankfully, I still had that knife from last night. Slashing at the vine, I got it clean off before the next vine wrapped itself around my ankle. They are more like concrete, considering I couldn't pry myself free. So I continued to hack at them. At least I was no closer to the edge than before. I was staying out for now. Every time I cut one off, another one attached itself. It was fine until one wrapped around my throat.

It's suffocating me. I need to breathe. Using the knife, I try to hack at the vines, but it's no use. This can't be it. They can't just kill me. That would be the most anticlimactic finale ever. I just need to hack through the thick vine. I'm starting to get through it as I feel the world shift. Going side to side, I feel myself sliding on the ground, the vine tightening like a noose. I need to get free.

Finally, after an eternity of thrashing, I do. Only to find that the arena is actually spinning. At hyperactive speed, the sky above me is giving me serious vertigo, to the point where I have to look away. With that, all the trees around me begin to shake. Leaves fall from the branches, landing on the ground, in my hair. I'm barely breathing again when I have to run. The edges of the arena are collapsing again.

I keep running until I'm in the clearing with the cornucopia. My lungs need air. I need air. I stop when I see the figure in the clearing, an apple halfway to his mouth. Oh, I'm sure the Capitol is waiting with baited breath.

**Winstead Dale, D11M**

I drop my apple the moment I see her. Lillith Sparks. She freezes when she sees me, one hand on her chest like she's trying to catch her breath. Her eyes go wide, panicked and scared. The look makes me feel guilty. I don't want to be the villain, the thing anyone is scared of. This girl shouldn't be afraid of me.

"Look, I'm sorry. I-" I'm cut off by the shaking of the ground. I'm sent crashing to my knees, and Lillith leans into the cornucopia for support. My brain is bouncing around my skull, and it feels like I'm going to explode. As the arena continues to spin, it begins to tilt. I suddenly regret leaving all the containers and cargo holds inside the cornucopia. They all slide out, the slant creating the perfect way for all of them to fall out. Including all the weapons.

It's all I can do to avoid the falling blades and arrows. The large crates that could easily give me a concussion, pushing me off the edge. So, I am careful to avoid all of the falling weapons, as well as being careful not to fall on the edge myself.

Then my feet start to slip on the slippery grass. The morning dew is still fresh. I'm so close to the edge. The only thing left in the arena is this clearing. Everything my life has been for the past three weeks subdued to nothing but rubble hundreds of feet below me. It's all ancient history.

**Lillith Sparks, D5F**

I wait for my body to get used to the spinning and tilting. When I realize I won't, I move anyways. Winstead is still trying to avoid all of the sliding crates and stay on the map itself. I could help him with that. Throwing him off the edge would be way easier than trying to kill him. I don't want to see anymore blood. _Mine._

No. no, not now. I can't deal with that now. My knees wobble as I try to walk, and I find myself subconsciously holding my arm. The scar I haven't let myself look at in ages is underneath. I know exactly where the ridges and bumps are, and I can feel them underneath my jacket sleeve.

"_This won't hurt at all, Dear," his smile is one made of steel, carved out of flesh. The blade runs down my face, my arm. Metal is in the air._

His face is eerily calm. Winstead Dale, the cold blooded killer after all. _Mine._ I don't belong to anyone. There is some kind of struggle inside of him. I can see it behind those eyes, the only part of him that seemed to be alive. Unmoving as a statue, He just stood there, seemingly unbothered by the world rotating on its axis, tilting and kind of just trying to screw with us.

His face changes all of a sudden, going feral and he's practically foaming at the mouth. The shrill gudderal scream he emitted was something out of nightmares. At first there was nothing, then he started moving at breakneck speeds, unbothered by the spinning and the current threat of falling off the arena. Going at me with speed I didn't know someone could possess, I felt my stomach drop as I realized what was twisting up my stomach. Fear. I'm scared. I'm scared of what he'll do to me. Fight. Flight. Freeze.

I freeze. I can't move, even as he runs at me with the clear intention of murder behind his eyes. If I could just take the knife out of my waistband I could be done with this, all the other weapons had fallen off the edge. He lowered his shoulder as he charged at me. I don't have the time to move as he connects with my gut. My body is thrown backwards, and I felt the metal of the cornucopia at my back as my head whips around and hits the wall with all the force it could. I see stars and my vision goes spotty as he approaches. _Mine_

"This won't hurt a bit." But no, it isn't him speaking. Suddenly, I see my attacker behind him. The man with his wicked grin. "_You'll join me soon. That's a promise." _Oh no, I don't think so. His hands go to my throat, pressing me into the hot metal of the cornucopia. He's going to kill me.

"Do it, I dare you. Monster."

**Winstead Dale, D11M**

I am a monster. A murderer. Exactly what I worried I would turn into. _I don't want this._ Georgia doesn't want this. Stopping dead in my tracks, it's all I can do to stay on the surface of the arena even as it twists and shakes underneath me. I can barely move.

"What am I doing?" All of a sudden, something makes hard and fast contact with my ribs. Lillith Sparks kneed me in the side. I had to let go of her throat, stumble back and catch my breath. She's standing in front of me now, a knife in one hand, the other one out for balance. She tried to attack, but even in this state I'm faster. The blade is out of her hands and in my own. I threw it away, and I heard it whistle over the edge. By the time I turn back, she's thrown herself into me in a full on tackle. I stumble backwards, so much so that I feel gravel underneath my feets sliding around. Then my heels leave the earth. With a sudden shift of the earth, I'm sent off the edge.

The free fall sensation went away after a while. I'm surely going to die. There's no getting around that.

"_Winstead," I look over to see Georgia. Last time I saw her she was crying. But now she's laughing, smiling. Happy. I haven't seen anyone happy for the past while. _

"_Georgia. What? What's going on?" _

_She takes my hand, guiding me down a long walkway._

"_You almost missed it," She's pulling me now. I feel my stomach twisting up with knots, and I don't know why. _

"_Missed what?" Everything is so bright. And so white. _

_Georgia hugs me, "You're wedding day, silly. Now, I have to go." I turn to ask her why, but she's gone. Then I see a woman walking down the aisle to me. I heard an orchestra start up, playing a familiar song. She's dressed in a long white dress, and I feel my heart pounding. Why are my palms sweaty?_

_She reaches me, stopping in front of me. Finally, she pulls back the veil. It's Abilene. My beautiful, wonderful Abilene. She's dressed in all white. She's taking my hands, and I look down to them. She's wearing a ring. So am I. When I look back up, She's morphed from my beautiful blonde Abilene to Rusty, copper hair spilling over shoulders_

"_Who would've thought this would ever happen? You and me, Lover boy." _

No. That's not right. I don't want Rusty. I don't like her. She was a mistake, and she's dead. It doesn't matter that Abilene isn't either. None of it matters anymore. I have closure. Closure. I close my eyes one last time, pretending everything is fine. _Goodbye Georgia. I'll see you on the other side. _

Abilene. I'll see her again. I know it. If I don't then what's the point of living at all? Well, I won't be in a few seconds.

_Abilene. I love you._

**Lillith Sparks, D5F**

I can't look away. He closed his eyes on the way down. My own body contorts when I hear the thud and crunch of his body against the rocks on the bottom of the ravine. Red blood splashes against everything at the bottom. I hate that colour. The canon booms, and just like that I'm the winner. The victor. The lone survivor of the hunger games massacre.

The arena is still tilting and spinning, and I realize that as I was fixated on the body at the bottom of the ravine, that I found myself sliding down the soft grass. Right to the edge.

My fingers struggle for hold, digging my hands into the dirt. It doesn't work. If I just let go, I'd die too. No, they wouldn't let me. The Gamemakers wouldn't let their precious victor die. I could test that, just let go and let myself fall- let myself die- but that's not what I want.

So I pull myself up, rolling over the edge and trying to stop all this aching. My body is about to give out. The voice, blasting over the remains of the arena. It still feels like the world is still spinning around me. Tilting and disorienting. I'm dead. I feel dead.

"Citizens of Panem, I announce the 126th annual hunger games victor, Lillith Sparks!" That's the last thing I hear before I feel my own legs give out. If I don't eat or drink soon, I think I might pass out. I haven't had a proper sleep in ages. My body is so heavy. I want all of this to just end.

The Hovercraft appears, gliding silently through the air. I have to crane my back to look up at it, I find it putting me in the shadow of the sun. The rope ladder dropping right in front of me. The moment I take hold of it, the current sucks me in, and I can't move. But I still feel so heavy. The movements makes me dizzy, and I have an out of body experience as I look around that hell hole for the last time. I feel like I'm watching as I slip into unconsciousness. It's like I'm watching as my eyes roll back before I reach the loading bay. I've won the hunger games.

Winning fucking sucks.

* * *

**Eulogies**

The fallen of day 11

**2: **Winstead Dale, D11M (2 kills)

Killed By Lillith Sparks

This entire story, Winsteads has been locked in this emotional, personal battle for really the entirety of the games. He's been through so much, losing his first love, then his other only a few days later. Becoming a murderer, a monster. He's fought the only enemy he ever truly had to fear -himself- over and over again. That much conflict really drove him to new heights. Sometimes he lost, sometimes he won. But in the end, he won control over his own consciousness, even if he lost. These games wouldn't have been the same without him. He had such a good arc, and he grew so much over the course of the story, and for the first little while I was really torn between which one of them would win. Finally, I decided on Lillith, but that doesn't mean I don't care about Winstead. He was truly just a joy to write, and I think that Rusty did a lot for his character. He really came out of his shell. He's messy, just like anyone else, and I'm so happy with how he turned out, even if he didn't end up going home.

**VIctor: **Lillith Sparks (2 kills)

* * *

And we have a winner. She's an overall favourite for you guys (and for me too), but she's also just one of the strongest characters of the entire story. Not just physically either. I think I did well with her backstory, and writing her was so much fun. I knew it would be impossible to kill her, and in the beginning I was dreading it. But then I realized that she didn't have to die. I spent a lot of time figuring out just who would win. I have so many reasons for this choice -she was smart, she had a good arc, she was strong both mentally and physically, she was a lovable character and so much more. I really cared about her, and I always had so much fun writing her scenes and I just can't explain the connection I feel with this character.

This is a story of survival, and Lillith survived way more than her fair share of crap. Because at the end of every story, you need someone to win. They don't always _live,_ but what's important is that they learn They grow. And Lillith got the chance to do all of it, and I don't have the words to describe how happy I am that this damaged creature could still make it out of the hunger games. There were quite a few characters I considered as the victor at one point or another included Mica, Dawn, and Winstead. But I knew in the end it had to be Lillith. I would have been really happy with any of them, but I'm happiest with Lillith. The story isn't over, either. I'll write a few more chapters about being back in the Capitol and then in 6.


	39. Chapter 39

**Heyo! We have our victor! I'm so happy that I get to continue Lillith's story, which is what I'll be doing the next few chapters. For those of you who aren't aware, I started a new SYOT, called _Of The Same Cloth_, a quarter quell idea I thought of s little whole ago. I'm still giving most of my attention to TBITW, but I'd really appreciate it if any of you checked it out. Shameless self promo aside, here we are, the hunger games far behind us. Or is it? **

Chapter 39

Where am I? When I first opened my eyes, I'm blinded by harsh fluorescents overhead. Unnatural. Bad. They sear into my retinas, making my vision go spotty. In times of confusion and dysphoria, I've found looking at the scars on my arm, my scar, a comfort. Well, not comfort. It's grounding. So I look down, only to find smooth, even, pale skin. It's gone. The harsh word is gone. I can't understand. Just to be safe, I look at my other arm. It's not their

"Mine". It's gone.

That nightmare is now nothing but a memory. Everything comes rushing back then. The reaping, the capitol, the games. The murders I've committed. Everything. That dark night in district five. I'm sent under a new wave of awful memories and night terrors.

"Mine"

The boy's hands on my shoulders, the threat of death. The betrayal of someone I called a friend. Athena, Acer, Drake, Winstead Dale. They're all dead. Why are they all dead?

I'm screaming now, crying and sobbing and wanting this to stop. There's slight pressure on my arms. An avox, a pretty young woman with a set expression comforts me, two hands holding me down as I writhe. It doesn't work. If anything, I feel worse. Swiftly and silently, she takes a syringe and sticks it in my arm. It stings, as she presses the plunger and the cool sedative enters my blood stream, I feel myself slip into unconsciousness.

I'm floating in and out of dreams who who knows how long. Some are pleasant, some aren't, some I can't tell. But when I'm solidly awake, I find myself in the same room I was in when I woke up the first tome. However long ago that was. I'm alone, a tray of food beside my bed, a delicate glass filled with water and ice, a small straw. This is all wrong. It's too easy, too suspicious. It has to be poisoned. They have to be trying to kill me. They have been trying to for the past 2 weeks. But then I understood. They don't care anymore. I've played their game, and I won. That means it's over. Right?

I get to my feet, or try to. I feel too weak to stand. So I settle for sitting up, reaching for the tray of food. I wasn't this weak, this fragile inside the arena, was I? Oh my god… I'm out of the arena. Those two weeks in hell are over. Yet it seems I myself was only brought to the cusp of death before it let go of me. I feel like hell, all my bones aching with misuse. The walls surrounding me on all sides are mirrored. Somethings wrong. The three scars that cross my cheek are still there. Why?

I didn't notice my head stylist walk in until I heard his voice. Brome Helicon.

"Lillith Sparks, congratulations on your victory," I remember just how uncomfortable he made me before, but I don't care anymore. I can't care about anything now. I'm a killer. I'm a killer. I'm a freak.

"What did you do to me?"

"Me?" He laughed, sitting beside me on the hospital bed, "I didn't do anything to you. You should be happy. Now you look perfect. Every bad thing that's ever happened to you has disappeared. Like it never existed." Mine. He's still there. In my mind.

I point to my face, "Except this."

"Oh, that," he meets my eyes in the mirrored wall, "That's your trade mark. They couldn't get rid of it." But they had no issue getting rid of the word that haunts my memories. Because that's all it is now. A memory. Mine.

"Well, now that you've woken up, we need to look… better. For the interviews tomorrow."

I roll my eyes, still feeling unsafe and awful and just wanting all this to end, "Sure. Whatever."

…

After hours and hours of my team making me look _better_, I'm sick of being poked and prodded. Can they just get this over with? My prep team, three very emotional women, are working away what the arena did to my body, the little things they couldn't fix while I was unconscious. First that went was my hair. They cut and trimmed until I found myself with a foot of hair on the ground, brushed off my shoulder.

"There you dear, you almost look human again." they all laugh, but I can't, because I know exactly what the comment implies.

Because I know those people don't want me until I'm one of them. In the arena I was an animal, their precious murderous pet, but out here? I have to be a proper citizen. And clearly, I have to look the part. Even if I don't feel it.

"Smile," I give a small smile, and the woman applies colour to my cheeks. The moment she turns away it turns into a sneer. With a little more work, she says I'm done. My hair is styled, curled and braided, pulled away from my face. A face that isn't mine. It's made up perfectly and wonderful All three scars are highlighted and defined, light bouncing off each and every one. I was already zipped into my dress, an elegant cream coloured number with long sleeves and a sweetheart neckline.

I haven't been eating enough since I got back. Or at all. I feel like I simply just can't handle the food. What I did get down only came back up last night. I'm hollow and empty inside. We just need to get this over with, then I can go home and try to forget everything. But I know that I'll never forget. These games will haunt me even more than the scars. Mine. It's all memory now. But it feels so real.

"Miss Sparks, are you ready for your interview?" I look up to see one of my stylists. I nod, unable to speak. Then I am left alone, under the stage on a platform that will raise at any moment.

This is sick. These people praise a lie. I'm a lie. Sitting on this throne with my crown. They worship and reward murder. Death. It's sick and twisted. They are sick and twisted. Monsters who praise other monsters, and so the vicious cycle repeats itself. Every year they have a new monster, a new pageant of death and party favours.

I hear it all. The fan fare and applause for my mentor, the for Helicon and the prep team. It's as the platform underneath my feet behind to rise do I know it's my time. I had to be careful now. Even if I'm the capitol's little toy, if I do anything wrong they could take it out on my entire family. My entire district. I'll never be out of the spotlight. I know it now.

It's showtime.


	40. Chapter 40

**Let's see how Lillith is dealing with the second day after being out of the arena. I've had a lot of time, now that COVID-19 has basically shut down every aspect of my life. It's been hard to deal with, and my anxiety and depression have definitely taken a toll on me- I think that thinking kind of took over at some points when I was writing this. So just a warning, there's a serious level of negative thinking that went into this chapter. But I think I'm doing better. I'll keep posting more regularly now. Enjoy chapter 40 (I can't believe I've come this far).**

* * *

**Chapter 40**

I'm blinded by the lights of the stage, but I smile all the same. I have to turn away, only to see someone running at me. Rexa Corsan is getting ready to attack. I wait for her to pull out a knife. Instead, she embraces me. My heart is pounding, and I feel the adrenaline of a fight rushing through my brain. She's in such a state of weakness, I could kill her right now. Just snap her neck.

What did they do to me in there? I'm a monster. I'll do far more damage to myself than anyone else ever could. I am my new, worse, enemy. This murderous tendency inside of me. "Miss Lillith Sparks. How have you been?"

The smile is hard to come by, but I force one as I'm released from her hold and allowed to sit down, "Uh, okay." I'm locked in a prison that I can't escape. Myself. It's worse than it was with that man. I could watch him bleed. I could watch him pay for all his crimes. I can hardly expect the same from myself. They brought in a new chair for this final interview. A throne, with gilded panelling and soft red velvet upholstery. A throne. A throne of lies. Why are they rewarding me for murder?

"Good, good. I must say, I was rooting for you the whole time." I am sitting on an ornate throne in the ornate, evil palace that is the Capitol.

I widen my smile as I try not to die inside, "So was I." That gets a laugh out of the audience. It wasn't even funny. It doesn't have to be funny, it just has to come from me. Their new toy.

"How did you feel in that final showdown? Because my heart practically stopped." My heart nearly stopped, along with the rest of my organs.

I try to find a reasonable answer. Then I come up with the solution to solve all my problems: all I have to do is pretend I'm speaking to someone I care about. Maybe Pete or Patrick (or both of them, because they're always together). No. That won't work. Jamie then. Yes! I'll just try to talk to Jamie.

So I test it out, "I thought I was going to die. But I knew I couldn't. I had to go home. For everyone. Especially after I saw that Drake had died. I had to win. Plain and simple" For you, Jamie.

Rexa Corsan clasps her hands in front of her, going all doe eyed, "Oh, how inspiring!" It still makes me sick.

…

The interview went on this manner. Her, asking frivolous questions. Me, giving half hearted answers, all while trying to pretend I'm all there. That I'm happy. That I don't see That body in the ravine every time I close my eyes. That I don't see those dead children every time I turn around. At last, we move onto the moment I've been dreading. The video, a compiled three hour long video telling the story of the 126th annual hunger games. It's really quite impressive, whoever compiles this thing must watch hours and hours of hunger games footage. Just as sick as the rest of them.

It follows my journey through this hell hole. My reaping, cameras catching all angles of it. It then follows me as I go on the train. The parade. My stupid, ridiculous costume. This is okay. I'm okay. All I have to see now is sit and watch. Just a few more hours. This is okay.

And it was, until I watched myself get raised into the arena. Cameras panned over the bloodbath, and I got a full shot of myself cowardly running in the opposite direction, following me as I ran to follow Athena into the rocky terrain on the southern half of the arena.

Everyone on the screen is dead now. A few of them are in the midst of being killed, back at the initial bloodbath. A girl, blown to bits by the landmines underneath her as she stepped off. There's something powerful about that. Stepping off early. Refusing to be in the games. If I could go back, would I have done that? Could I have possibly given up so easily? It cuts away from me, back to the fight. Blood covers the slightly too green grass- the fake Capitol grass, and the steel walls of the cornucopia. People die, and I have to watch it. How did their families feel? They had to watch these people die. A mother, a father, watched me stab a knife through their daughters chest. I found her name last night, alone in the room. Dawn Night. I also remember that there was no light fixture, that the door was locked behind me and the nail scissors that had been in my first room before I went into the games were gone. They couldn't have me killing myself now. Now I was their prize.

Thinking of that helped me forget that people are being massacred before my very eyes. In the corner of the large screen, a small square pops up, giving my live reactions to things, so I have to control the tears that want to stream down my face.

It's a survival story. While mostly focusing on me, it would also cover the little subplots as they played out. As if the love, betrayal and murder of my fellow tributes were simply subplots. . Each of them had their own story, but it barely got any time because it was focused on just how awful I was to Athena, no matter how much I cared about her. She was like the younger sister I never had. Athena's dead now. I don't want to watch her die. I don't want to watch anyone else die.

It's physically painful to watch as Acer attacks me, demanding to know just where she is. Athena. My Athena. At least Acer didn't kill her. Drake looks so scared of me as I run into him in the woods.

I didn't feel so bad about killing Winstead Dale as I watched him brutally murder Drake. He kept attacking long after his eyes went vacant, a girl. The next clip they showed was The same boy, moments later, being kissed by that same girl. He had some sort of relationship with him. It's at that point I had to turn away. I don't care if they think I'm weak. If anyone else has an issue with me, maybe I'll just put a knife through their chest too.

This is what they've done to me. I'm a murderer. They replay that clip twice. Dawn Night's eyes going vacant as blood leaks out around the knife. I watched it over and over did the editing was some kind of evil genius. Probably one of the gamemakers. At that moment I was sick, terrified. But with a bit of inspiring music played over the clip, along with the cutting of frames made me look confident, cool, and cold. Just what they want in theri little lap dog.

After that it wasn't too bad. A few more deaths, and here we are. At the finale. It's so terrible I can't look away. He looks so broken, which makes sense after everything I saw on the clips. I feel a pang of guilt as his body falls over the edge.

The final shot is of me, weak in the knees as I try to stay upright, just as they announce 'Lillith Sparks' as the victor of 126th hunger games. There are no victors in a game like this. No one wins. We all lose, I just lost with my life. It's not as much of a bargain as I thought it would be.

The lights go up, and the applause is eardrum shattering. Applause for me. Rexa Corsan is wiping at her dry cheeks with a handkerchief, making sniffling noises. Moved to tears. Sure.

"That," her voice was thick as she placed a hand on mine, "was beautiful." I think I'm going to throw up. I nod, looking away from her. The place I really can look is the lights. I'm blinded, but at least I can't see any of the people around.

President Darnell Whitlock, a sour faced old man with a heavy build, appeared. He stood beside the head gamemaker, a woman named Anala Syrus. The all around plain woman held a blue satin pillow, the victor's crown sitting on top of it. I stood, readying myself for the crown. I smile as I bow to the man, wanting to claw his eyes out. Whitlock grabbed the crown and placed it on my head. "Welcome to a whole new world, Lillith Sparks," A whole new world indeed.

I'm struck once by how plain Anala Syrus was when she steps up to shake my hand. There was nothing of the Capitol in her natural brown hair, slicked back into a knot at the nape of her neck, or the plain white dress suit that fit her so well. Not even her face had an inch of the Capitol's ridiculous cosmetics or the surgeries to change a person's features. She looked positively normal. If only what had been her creation wasn't such a monster, I might've liked to know her. The head gamemaker, leading exactly what led to the destruction of countless young men and women- not even men or women. Children. She basically slaughtered children. Syrus gave me a small smile, shaking my hand as she congratulated me on the victory.

Rexa Corsan hugs me again. I hate it just as much the second time around. Corsan takes my hand and raises it into, "One last time, let's get a round of applause for the victor of the 126th Hunger Games." They burst into applause as curtains sweep over the stage. I just want to go to my room. I just want to cry.

"Thank you, Miss Sparks. I'm so glad you won." it's all I can do to smile as I step away. The minute I get alone, I start to sprint. Heading back to my old room, the one in the tribute tower on the fifth floor. The door is unlocked.

I tear off the stupid crown, throwing it across the room. I hear it clatter against the wall, pieces breaking off. Exactly what I think of these stupid games.

I curl up on the soft bed, still in my lavish gown and full face of fake makeup. I barely manage to kick off my heels as I feel any last bits of restraint wear off. There are many titles I must now bear because of these games. The murderer. The victor.

The victim.

Awake far into the night, I'm still sobbing. I'm sure I slipped off into sleep at some point, but I don't know when that point is.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

The train ride was long and lonely. My mentor was on the train as well, but he spent the entire time by the drink cart. He offered me a drink, but I hate the bitter taste of spirits. The way it burns as it goes down your throat. It's disgusting and sick. I've only tried it one, but once was enough. Then Dad caught me, and I swore I'd never touch another drop again.

I feel gentle rocking lessen as the train slows down. We're almost at District Five. I'm almost home.

The platform comes into view as the train speeds along. I spot the twins first, Patrick and Pete! With them are my parents, breaking out into tears. I'm crying myself. But they're the emotional, happy tears, unlike last night. Even thinking about yesterday couldn't stone down the hope and joy in my chest. This is it. I'm home.

The moment the train door opens, I throw myself out into the crowd. Into the large arms of Pete, or maybe Patrick. It doesn't really matter because I hug the other twin next.

"Lil," I turn to see my mother and father, both crying as much as I am. I've never seen Father cry. Not even that the twins found me, "our Lillith's home." I go to Mom next. Her arms are warm and inviting, and I never want to let go.

"I love you, I love you so much!" I repeat it over and over again, as if it would make it more and more true. I'm finally with my family. My friends. Where are my friends?

"Lillith?" I look over, and see Jamie, holding Hayley's hand. Brendon's behind them.

"Oh my god!" Over and over again, I hug each and every one of them. Finally, I go to hug Jamie. I don't want to let go. He's safe. He's Jamie. I don't want to think about anything else.

He lets go, taking my hand and pulling me a few steps from the group as some form "Hey, can I talk to you? Alone sometime?"

I shrug, "Of course," I stop as I realize something, "Oh my god! Your flower!" The beautiful, delicate paper flower that he gave me on reaping day. I left it in the

"What? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I shake my head, starting to tear up, "I left your flower in the Capitol. I don't know where. I lost it, I lost it. I'm a terrible friend-" he puts his hands on my shoulder, the type of contact I wasn't expecting. He saw my face change as I flinched away in fear.

"Let's go home, Lillith. Find our house in victor's village?" I want nothing more than to go, after one thing.

…

I found Drake Ru's family in the crowd that was on the platform. I knew they would be there. His older sister, who I saw on the reaping clips, was married to the Mayor. He was there, but his wife wasn't. Apparently she was their home, raising a beautiful healthy boy. The boy I met was going to be an uncle, and he never got the chance to meet her. The mayor had a glint of pride and sadness in his eyes as he said the boy would be named Drake. My heart broke into a million pieces at those words. I spoke to each of them, together and individually. Apologizing over and over again for the death of their son, brother, or brother in law. I don't know what I was expecting from his father. I half expected him to slap me or something. Instead, he pulled me into a warm embrace. Of all things, he thanked me. I had to leave before I started to cry. More than I already was.

Finally, I step away, finding my family and once more.

It was hard, but it was necessary. I will have to make a point of talking to all of them regularly. It's the least I can do. For Drake. I didn't even know him, but I will. I'll do as much as I can to alleviate that loss.

Jamie looks nervous, looking around and shaking.

"Jamie… what's wrong? You're acting all weird."

He shakes his head, "What. nothing? I'm always weird."

"I know, you're just weirder than usual," that's when it hit me. I knew exactly what was happening.

He hasn't changed. I have. I'm different now. He isn't acting weird. I am.

Of course, everything is falling apart. The world is splitting to pieces under my feet, and I'm about to drop right through the floor. I'm going to die. I'm being ripped away from everything and everyone I care about. I'm a monster now, a horrible person. A murderer. He watched me murder innocent children. All he saw was me on a screen, a killer. Now he's going to leave me. Everyone's leaving me-

"Do you want to go out with me sometime?"

That was definitely not what I was expecting. I try to form words, but the most I get out is a stunned syllable or two as my throat closes over. _What is he talking about?_

"You mean, like with Hayley and Brendon? Of course. I want everything to get back to normal."

"No," he shook his head, "No. I wanted to spend time with you alone."

Alone? _Mine. _All alone. _Knife in his hand. Rust in the air._ No. Jamie would never hurt me. He's Jamie. He helped me that night, he's helped me more than anyone should have to. God damn it, I love him.

"Like a date?"

He laughed, "yeah. Like a date."

He took my silence for dismay, disdain, "I know, I know. It's stupid. I'm sorry. Nevermind," Jamie turned away, aggressively running his hands through his hair.

"Hey, it's not stupid," This is Jamie. My best friend, "okay."

"Okay?"

I laugh, feeling kind of giddy, "I would love to go on a date with you." That's the first time I've laughed in... an eternity.

So we'll give this a go. I can try. It'll be just like before.

No. Nothing can be like it was before. I'm different now. Everything's different now. Who knows? Maybe it can be better.

* * *

**Here we are. At the end. I'm going to be honest, I never this day would come. But here we are, almost a year later. I've improved and changed so much as I wrote this book. I love every character in this book, even the ones I despised. I can't explain just how much I loved this book. You are all so ridiculously supportive, every reader, every reviewer. Each of you mean so much to me. Now I'm getting all sassy. So this is me, saying goodbye to _There's Blood In The Water_. And to all of you. I hope you all continue reading my work, and contribute to my new SYOT. Or don't. Just thank you, all of you**


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